The Philosopher's Stone
by DarkQuartz
Summary: What if Dumbledore's plots were thwarted before they started? What if the Dark Lord had gotten to the vault before Hagrid? Not sure about pairings, rated T for now for reference to child abuse/neglect. **Abandoned**
1. Introduction to the Wizarding World

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter, unfortunately. If I did, I'd probably get myself a second dog and a climate controlled house in Alaska =)

Also, no Beta, so all grammar and spelling problems are mine.

 **Chapter 1: Introduction to the Wizarding World**

 _"Harry - yer a wizard,"_ said the giant man standing in anger in the middle of the hut. Harry's aunt, uncle, and cousin cowered against the walls and he couldn't help but stare at the pig tail and snout that had been transfigured on Dudley. Not waiting for a reply from the Harry, Hagrid continued. _"An' a thumpin' good 'un, I'd say, once yeh trained up in magic o'bit."_

The dark haired child being addressed flinched at the M word. The fire in the grate flickered before turning blue and the shadows cast by the change in lighting took on a sinister feeling. He let out a whimper then backed away from the giant man whose fur coat seemed to writhe as though alive at the result of the change in lighting. The bearded man sneered suddenly and loomed larger.

 _"What? Need to learn another less'n now, freak?_ " Hagrid said, his voice sounding more like his uncle's only with the added accent. _"'Ogwarts ken teach yer real good, boy."_

Harry shook his head no vehemently even as he scrambled back up against the cold and damp wall of the hut. _"P-please, I'll be good,"_ he whimpered, in fear of this huge stranger and of the terrifying situation. His eyes widened in shock when he heard mocking laughter come from those that had been cowering just a moment ago against the wall.

 _"Oh no, boy. We're getting rid of you now, and this man looks like he'll be able to straighten you out for good,"_ his uncle gloated with his own sneer, making Dudley squeal then snort louder like a pig. _"We spent years trying to stamp the freakishness out of you, but it didn't work. I'm sure this savage can do it."_

Harry shook head head harder in a silent plea of no, please don't! even as he pressed his body harder against the rough wall of the hut when Hagrid took a couple steps forward and reached out his huge hand to grab Harry by the head to take him away…

In a small hut on an island in the middle of the atlantic, Harry Potter woke up gasping and shivering.

* * *

Hagrid woke up to the sounds of muffled gasping and chattering teeth and stirred slightly from where he had fallen asleep on the couch the night before to look at the source of the noise through sleep-slitted eyes. He could see Harry's outline shivering underneath his huge fur coat. The sight caused him to frown with puzzlement. Surely, the boy wasn't cold?

Being a gamekeeper for several decades now, he was used to caring for injured and sick creatures from the forest which is why he was able to stir so easily though the distressed sounds Harry was making was nearly nonexistent. After almost a minute passed, the shivering stopped when a tapping at the window from an owl began. Hagrid relaxed his body and kept his eyes almost completely closed to see what Harry's reaction would be.

He saw the kid sit upright quickly, brilliant emerald eyes darting about the room as though checking for danger, then he looked surprised at the fur coat that had fallen into his lap and stared at it for a few seconds. However, Harry immediately scrambled up when the owl's insistent tapping continued and he stood on his toes to throw open the window.

The Daily Prophet's mail owl flew in and dropped the paper onto Hagrid's back. He managed to stop his amused snort before Harry could realize he was awake. He watched as the kid turned in time from the window where he was drawing fresh sea air into his lungs to see the owl begin to savagely attack the coat.

"Hagrid? There's an owl-" the young voice began when he noticed the owl attacking the coat.

"Pay 'im," Hagrid interrupted with a mumble into the couch cushion.

Harry looked lost for a moment. "I...uh...don't have money," he replied nervously.

The huge man waved - or rather, flopped- a hand in the direction of his coat and he saw Harry involuntarily flinch at the motion. It was a curious reaction, so he distracted the kid with more information to watch him longer. " 'E wants payin fer the paper. Look in the pockets... it'ller be five knuts. That is, the bronze 'uns."

Harry relaxed again then crept towards the coat and Hagrid shifted quietly to watch the small and timid figure that seemed to be intimidated by the owl that had moved back to glare menacingly. He watched Harry give a small sigh, and Hagrid was about to sit up, but the child surprised him by lunging forward to search through pockets quickly. A sound of jingling coins showed the fruits of the endeavor, and the boy quickly counted out and deposited five knuts into the coin pouch on the owl's leg so it could take off.

The most surprising part was what Harry did after. He shoved the rest of the money back into the pocket as though the coins were on fire.

Now, Hagrid knew he wasn't the brightest man in the world. He also knew it probably came from his giant genes as well. But those same genes had also given him an affinity for animals, especially magical ones, and as such, he could read body language pretty well. He could tell since the night before there was something wrong with the boy, but he had figured it was the shock of finding out about the truth. Dumbledore had warned him that the kid might have been ignorant of the wizarding world, having grown up with muggles. But still, the sense of wrongness scratched at him. The boy acted more like a puppy expecting punishment rather than an excited child looking forward to the day.

Hagrid sat up with a stretch and a yawn deciding he should stop acting while he watched Harry watch the owl fly out of the window. "Time ter be off," he said when Harry's wide green eyes were back turned to him. "Got ter get yer school supplies." And he'll have more time to observe and see if he can figure out what it is the boy is expecting to go wrong.

"Uhm..." Harry started in a downcast voice, his brilliant green eyes dropping to look at the floor. "I... don't have any money, sir. And you heard my uncle last night. He won't pay for me to learn m-magic."

Hagrid brightened momentarily. Ah, this was what was wrong, he thought he had no money! "Tha's not a problem!" he said with a large grin to put Harry at ease. "Ya did'n' think yer parents would ya with nothin' did yeh?"

Harry's brow furrowed a little bit as he looked up at the smiling man, his demeanor not changed. "But... their house was destroyed..." he said hesitantly.

"They didn' leave gold in the house," Hagrid said exuberantly, trying to coax the boy out of his shell. "Nah. Firs' stop fer us will be Gringotts. That's the wizarding bank! Eat some sausage first, and I would'na say no ter some o' yeh birthday cake too."

Harry nodded then gave the big man a small smile back. "Wizards have banks?" he asked uncertainly before his eyes flickered to Hagrids large hands even while he reached out to take a sausage. The smallest one.

Hagrid glanced at his own hands for a moment even has he nodded without losing his friendly expression, wondering why the boy still looked like he was cornered. "Just the one. It's run by goblins," he replied back and grabbed a couple sausages himself before gesturing to the rest. "Eat more, if yeh want tah. We got a busy day today!"

The raven haired boy nodded again and took another even as he asked about goblins. Hagrid told him a bit about them to keep him occupied, urging more food throughout the conversation. Wasn't Harry too skinny for a boy his age? The baggy clothes and bad lighting last night had hid it the boy's physical condition from him. He didn't think James was this small when he started Hogwarts all those years ago, but maybe it came from Lily's side. She always was dainty.

His studying continued even after while he kept talking to the child on their trip to the Leaky Cauldron, taking the boat so the awful muggles would have to find their own damned way off the unwelcoming island, and he noticed a pattern.

One, the boy would flinch, or hide a flinch anytime he mentioned the word magic.

Two, the boy wasn't showing the normal amount of curiosity. It was like he was afraid of asking questions.

Three, Harry would glance at his hands often. He hadn't figured the why of that one yet; it wasn't as though he'd hit him!

Four, the boy would tense up anytime he was touched.

Five, his clothes and shoes didn't fit him. As a matter of fact, what he was wearing reminded him of people like Mundungus Fletcher; second hand and oft-mended clothes that would have been discarded or used for rags by others. The way the child's eyes darted around warily didn't help with that impression either.

Hagrid frowned slightly as he struggled to put his observations together when they approached the Leaky Cauldron. It was like the boy didn't really believe him and expected something bad to happen. Hagrid wondered why Dumbledore would send him to fetch Harry Potter when normally it was done by a head of house, then puffed up proudly when he recalled it's because the headmaster trusted him with only the most important tasks! Like what he was to pick up at the bank as well.

"Right this way, 'Arry," Hagrid said, pleased, as he opened the door to the busy pub, then herded the boy inside.

Hagrid smiled wider and stroked his beard when Harry gaped as his eyes took in the details. Finally, an honest to goodness normal reaction! He reached out to lead the boy inside and noted that he didn't flinch away when he places his hand on the small shoulder to guide him inside farther. He was so absorbed in making sure that Harry stayed safe that he didn't notice the numerous greetings directed at him, but when Tom called out to him when they were halfway to the back door, he looked up and shook his head.

"Not t'day, Tom," Hagrid boomed out cheerfully. "Here on 'Ogwart's business." He clapped Harry's shoulder, and all eyes turned to look at the suddenly uncomfortable boy.

"Dear me," said one woman who had a small cup in front of her as she squinted and leaned forward to stare at him disbelievingly.

"Is that... Harry Potter?" asked a man, a note of wonder in his voice.

Harry stiffened in shock and Hagrid realized he might have made a Big Mistake when he felt that. As people came closer to greet Harry, they didn't even seem to notice his lack of response. Instead, they grabbed up his small hand to shake it while talking and introducing themselves. He grew alarmed when Harry's slight form started shaking, recognizing a panic attack for what it was, and he was about to pull the boy out of the crowd when Dedalus Diggle's excited handshaking pulled the boy away from his grasp.

"I'm all aflutter to meet you!" the wizard started to exclaim as an introduction, but he stopped when Harry cried out. Glasses on the bar exploded with accidental magic from Harry's panic attack, and the young boy curled up into a small ball with his arms over his head and began to whimper. Hagrid's heart sunk at the sight.

"I'm s-sorry, please, I didn't m-mean to. It's not my fault, I d-didn't do it," he stammered to the suddenly silent and shocked pub. Everyone was so surprised that they didn't notice another pair of eyes watching the boy in a calculating manner.

An elderly woman turned to glare at Hagrid and he couldn't help but take a step back. "What is the meaning of this, Hagrid?" she demanded angrily. "The-boy-who-lived safe? Where did Dumbledore keep him?!" The rest of the bar began to angrily mutter and Harry took the small reprieve to back up under a table where he wrapped his arms around his knees while shivering.

"Madam Marchbanks, Dumbledore knew what 'e was doing," Hagrid replied back in a placating manner even as he squashed a niggle of doubt in his mind. "Can't tell yer who the muggle family is, though."

"Muggles?! Raised Harry Potter?" exclaimed another witch whose long stemmed pipe had gone out a while ago. "Any wizarding family would have taken him in!"

Hagrid couldn't conceal the wince from his slip and his own anxiety increased as his eyes scanned about where he thought where the boy might be. "Yeh, but they were 'is family!" he defended before spotting the the curled up form and moved through the crowd to reach for him. "Got ter go now, we gotta do the school shopping, yeh know."

Hagrid stooped to pick Harry up, and he gathered the small body against him protectively. "Shhh, not gonna hurt yeh, 'Arry," he said softly when he heard the muffled cry of fear, and then, in a louder voice he told reassured everyone else. "See? No harm done, boy's jus' not used ter large crowds."

Though the glares directed at the half-breed giant didn't lessen, they reluctantly parted to let him start for the back door. "Don't think I won't be bringing this up to the next Wizengamot meeting, Hagrid," Griselda Marchbanks said. "You make sure you tell Dumbledore that, too! He told us Harry was being kept in a safe place, but the boy doesn't look like it!"

Hagrid nodded and quickly left with the shivering boy in his arms before the crowd could get angrier and sighed with relief when he got to the wall where he could open the path into Diagon Alley. "Yeh okay, 'Arry?" he asked softly.

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself then nodded quietly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he said quietly, refusing to meet the worried brown eyes once he was lowered back onto his feet.

Hagrid glanced around then kneeled down to present himself smaller. He deliberated a moment and wondered how to pose the next question so that the frightened boy wouldn't run or clam up. "Ain't gonna hurt yah, 'Arry," he said gently, using the same tone he used when reassuring a wild creature he needed to get close to to inspect. "I'm a big man, but ain't hurt a soul in me life. Did... the Dursley's hurt yeh?"

Harry stared down at the ground and shrugged his shoulders even as he scrunched his shoulders up smaller. Almost a minute of silence passed before green eyes glanced up through his bangs to look at Hagrid, then he quickly looked away again uncertainly. Hagrid waited another several seconds patiently then let out a quiet breath and tried to pat Harry on the head gently. Harry shied back a couple steps. "Can't help yeh if you don't talk ter me," he tried coaxing. "I won't tell anyone unless yer want me to."

He watched as Harry took a another deep breath and waited once again for a reply. His patience was finally rewarded when eyes filled with a fragile trust met his own that didn't look away this time.

"Sometimes," the boy admitted quietly while he shoved his hands in his pockets. "But... Only when I am being a freak."

Hagrid blinked and grew angry, but he calmed his emotions down when he saw the scared boy about to run. "Nah, not mad at yeh," he said quickly, then shook his head and got to thinking. "Bein' a freak? Like... doing magic?"

Harry flinched at the word once again before giving a hesitant nod. "I didn't know it was... m-magic. Not until last night, anyway." Harry waited to see what Hagrid's reply would be, his body language still poised for flight despite the reassurance given.

Hagrid relaxed his body more and slowly turned his palms upwards to show he wasn't going to harm the boy. "Tha's not yer fault, 'Arry," he explained. "It 'appens to all magical kids. Why yah go to 'Ogwarts, ter learn to train and control it." Hagrid held his breathe and waited to see what Harry's response would be, knowing he was in a delicate state of mind.

Harry swallowed hard when he was told that _it wasn't his fault_ and he looked Hagrid in the eyes again with hope blossoming in his heart. "All kids?" he asked timidly, and when Hagrid gave a solemn, he saw the boy relax like a great weight had been partially lifted off of the small shoulders. Harry hesitated a second, then dropped his eyes and started to pluck at the hem of his over large shirt.

"Wha' is it, 'Arry?" Hagrid asked, seeing that the boy wanted to ask something more. "Yeh can ask me anything."

Harry continued to tug on the bottom of his shirt for a bit longer and the towering man concluded it was taking a lot for the raven-haired boy to gain confidence to ask his question.

"Can I... live with wizards?" he finally asked quietly, then held his breath when his body shifted into a tense and defensive stance. When Hagrid only cleared his throat uncomfortably, Harry marginally relaxed again.

"Well... I'll have ter be askin' Dumbledore about that," Hagrid replied slowly, hating that he was unable to promise anything. When Harry began to slump in defeat, he quickly added "But I see no reason why not! 'Specially what with how even I saw how the Dursley's treated yeh and what they said. Don't worry, 'Arry... I believe yeh."

The last three words seemed to be the _magic_ words to the poor and abused 11 year old birthday boy. He straightened up to more resemble an eager boy about to take his first step into a new and exciting world rather than an animal that had been beaten down until it was no longer willing to fight for itself. Hagrid stood and smiled down at the boy as he offered him his hand, and Harry slipped his small hand into the large one trustingly with the smile returned and they turned to the wall where Hagrid began to tap on the bricks.

Neither noticed the figure that had been hiding to the side of the building slip in behind them.

* * *

 _ **Break In At Gringotts!**_

 _By William Current_

 _The goblins are in an outrage and have closed the bank down for the next week to upgrade due to a break-in that happened yesterday! This is the first ever successful Gringotts break-in since it was first recorded in 1474, though there have been numerous and foolish wizards who had tried in the past. Though we questioned them as to what was taken, the goblins refused to release the information stating that the owner of the vault wished to keep it a secret. When questioned who the owner was, we were also told that they wanted to remain anonymous!_

 _At this time the goblins also claim to not know who is responsible for the break in._

 _With so little answers forthcoming, we at the Daily Prophet, have to wonder if our gold will remain safe. How can we trust our treasure, heirlooms, and other things with the goblin race when there are so little answers forthcoming. This reporter will tell you now, the upgrades they say they are doing had better be good or I will find my own place to keep my belongings!_

 _ **The-Boy-Who-Lived Abused By Muggles?!**_

 _By Rita Skeeter_

 _Harry Potter was spotted yesterday doing his shopping for his first year at Hogwarts in Daigon Alley with the half-giant Rubeus Hagrid. The only living person who has ever survived the killing curse which caused the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the young boy has been missing from the wizarding world for the last ten years. It should have been a joyous occasion, but instead, it turned into a shocking revelation in the middle of The Leaky Cauldron when we tried to show him our gratitude._

 _"It was heartbreaking," Doris Crockford admitted when I interviewed her. "The poor boy! Raised by muggles."_

 _"I was just trying to shake his hand!" Dedalus Diggle exclaimed right after Ms Crockford. "Next thing I know, he's on the floor shivering and trying to hide after a burst of accidental magic!"_

 _Now, as you readers know, magical children by that age have stabilized their magical cores enough that accidental magic only occurs when this child's emotions have overwhelmed them. That is why kids start schooling after the age of 11, So now this reporter has to ask some hard questions._

 _What was our Savior doing living with Muggles when he should have been in the wizarding world?_

 _Why was our Savior's 'overwhelming reaction' fear rather than joy at being reunited with his people?_

 _Who has our Savior been with all this time?_

 _What has happened to the Boy-Who-Lived?_

 _Children should be treasured and taken care of, especially with how many families were wiped out over ten years ago! This reporter hopes that the Department of Children and the DMLE both look into this and finds out what has been going on. All other orphanes children were properly adopted into wizarding families after the fall of You-Know-Who, why was Harry Potter not?_

 _I will be keeping tabs on this situation dear readers to keep you updated!_

Albus Percival Wolferic Brian Dumbledore sighed as he set down the Daily prophet and rubbed the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up to do so. Hagrid had told him about the meeting in the Leaky Cauldron, and so he expected a questioning from Griselda at the next Wizengamot meeting, but he had been hoping it wouldn't get in the papers.

Albus had sincerely expected Petunia to take care of the boy. He knew of her nature, of course, and how much she hated magic. Lily and James had told them a few stories about it during the Order meetings - which he's going to need to put back together if the person who he thinks stole the stone, did steal it. But really, for the boy to make a public fuss like that? Maybe he had just been so ignored in that house that he was just seeking some attention. That could be a possibility and Hagrid had reported no injuries.

The old wizard stood up and moved over to the bookshelf with frown. _What if he wasn't acting?_ came a small voice in his head as he waved a hand and expended some wandless magic to transfigure a set of books back into the mahogany box it originally was. He shoved that thought away, for sending the boy out into the muggle world was to the Greater Good, and opened the box to pull out the golden medallion for the Order of the Phoenix which gleamed as though freshly polished with magic.

Fawkes gave a disapproving chirp from his perch and Albus turned to look at his familiar with a raised eyebrow. _'Give your conscience the appropriate thought, Albus,'_ came Fawkes' stern chiding through their mental link.

"Even if he was, Fawkes, what's done is done," Albus replied back. "Besides, Tom may be back. Severus is currently out of the country gathering potions ingredients as well, so I haven't been able to contact him as of yet about his Mark. When the boy starts school, I'll find out if it's true."

' _And if it's true?'_ came the phoenix's caustic reply.

The long white beard moved when the wizard pursed his lips. "Then we'll have to find him a new home with a Light family. Maybe the Weasleys? I wish Diggle had talked to be before speaking with the reporter, though."He shook his head in disappointment before lowering his head to put on the medallion. A golden light flashed out of it with a mental echo of a phoenix's song, then he looked at his familiar when he realized there was no reply.

Fawkes was giving him another stern look and he winced. _'I told you to check in on the boy these past ten years. You kept putting it off with Wizengamot this, ICW that, headmaster duties, and vague reassurances that might work on others, but not me, that you had monitors up! We both know that those monitors were just for ward strength and to make sure nothing Dark passed through them. You're making mistakes, old man, and now they are coming back to bite you in the ass!'_ the bird scolded while fluffing his feathers angrily before disappearing in a ball of flame.

Albus grimaced then rubbed his temples to dull the headache that had formed at his familiar's vehement lecture and turned his thoughts inwards. The phoenix could only see a small portion of the greater scheme. The creature couldn't see the delicate balance it took to keep wizarding Britain the way it should be. ICW had harped on about how backwater their community was and had been pushing to for Britain to reform their laws in regards to creatures like werewolves and to grant Centaurs more land. As such, it took up most of his free time and he had to give some of the forbidden forest to the centaurs, allow the merfolk community to expand in the lake to compromise. However, he refused to give anything to the dark creatures. If he had, it would have given Voldemort a foothold! As is, the one werewolf he had he didn't quite trust. No telling, too, what Remus would do once he read that article. He hadn't even seen the man in years and wasn't sure where to find him.

Albus heaved another sigh then began pacing. He just hadn't had time these past ten years which was why he had Arabella placed in the area. She had never reported seeing anything untowards besides that the Dursleys never wanting Harry about. That wouldn't be too unusual with how they feared magic; they wouldn't to be around accidental outbursts that magical children normally did. He shook his head. He'll just have to go with the attention seeking reply and point out that Harry had no visible signs of abuse. He still needed his position so that he could once again be the leader of Light the people would need if Voldemort came back. Fawkes couldn't understand that being a leader meant making a better decision for the whole rather than for one small boy. Even if the boy was prophesied to defeat evil.

 **XxXxXxXxXxX**

The first convening of the Order gathered in the Great Hall since the war happened that evening. Fawkes perched on the back of the headmaster chair and had pecked at the old wizard when he tried to sit there earlier in the day prior to the people gathering, so the group had ended up sitting at the Ravenclaw table to talk.

"We are here today because I believe that Voldemort-" Albus paused to wait for everyone to finish shuddering "-was the one who stole from Gringotts" he announced.

Several faces turned white, then Dedalus leaned forward. "What about Harry Potter?" he asked. "You said he was the chosen one. Where has he been all this time?"

Dumbledore mentally winced, but externally he just gave the shorter wizard a small frown. "He has been living with his family this whole time," he explained calmly, knowing the meeting would go nowhere until this was addressed since it had been announced in the Prophet just that morning. "Lily had family still, and she had tied the wards to them to keep the Dark and his followers away." A partial truth.

Minerva's lips thinned, and the old wizard could hear an echo of the words she said long ago from the eyes glaring at him without using legilimency. The worst sort of Muggles! Thankfully, she said nothing, but the retired auror Moody snorted. "You mean the muggle family that she mentioned that hated magic?" he asked, and was about to say more but Dumbledore cut him off.

"Yes, regretfully that's the only blood relative left alive," he admitted. "No doubt, his accidental magic caused him to panic and that's what happened yesterday in Diagon Alley. Most likely they would ground him or some such when those things happened."

Several of the people around the table gave that excuse a thoughtful look then nodded in agreement. Child abuse was extremely rare in the Wizarding world, just about unheard of actually, so they didn't think more on it. Dedalus gave a skeptical look though, and he could still feel his Deputy's glare. "So, back to the original topic. The item stolen in Gringotts yesterday was supposed to have been emptied and brought here to me for protection. I had entrusted Hagrid with the task, but he had been side tracked by showing Harry around the alley, and was going to pick it up later that evening after returning the boy back to his loving family only to find the goblins had closed down because of the robbery. The item in question... if it's been stolen by Voldemort or one of his death eaters... could bring him back to life."

Several gasps were heard and a "No!" of denial from someone before Moody leaned forward with his hands grasping the edge of the wooden table. "What was the item?" he asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I am sworn under secrecy not to reveal that information," he explained. "Nor to reveal who the owner is. All I can say is that-"

"ALBUS!" came an angry voice that made Dumbledore's gut twist right before the thick wooden doors of the great hall crashed open. Several of the Order members got to their feet with their wands out, the retired Auror being the first, while others like Mundungus hid under the table instead. "ALBUS!" the man standing in the door frame with a large glowing sapphire in his hand shouted angrily.

"Ah... this is the owner," Dumbledore explained as he stood, and gestured to the others that it was okay. All but two sat down again, Moody with his wand still out was standing and Minerva was standing out of respect since he knew who exactly stood there. The others watched the man with curiosity and wariness.

The lean man appeared to be no later than in his sixties or seventies, his hair more grey than black, and the glow to the sapphire died down as he strode in wearing muggle clothing of just jeans and a white t-shirt with oil stains. "Do you know what you have done?!" he demanded of Dumbledore as he got to him. Several eyes widened in surprise that anyone would speak to Albus Dumbledore like that. Minerva just shook her head and sighed.

"Yes, well, that's why I gathered the Order," Dumbledore explained calmly and gestured to the group. "We were in the stages of planning a retrieval mission."

"And I only hear about it from the prophet?! You had secured it in Gringotts?!" the man barked back, not appearing to be placated at all. "If someone was able to steal it from the goblins, most likely they had already planned ahead and now have it in a location more secure!" Moody blinked then grinned in the same way he normally did when a trainee used their brain for a change.

Mad-Eye Moody was also terrible with social niceties and didn't think about what reactions were appropriate in certain situations.

"What are you grinning about, boy," the mysterious wizard snarled at him, his anger felt by all with a crackling of energy that made their arm hairs stand on end with static.

"Boy?!" Mad-Eye barked back, his wand still raised. "I'm a retired auror! I've seen-"

"Shut up," the other man snapped back then sneered dismissively. "You weren't even a thought in your great great great grandparents lives before I had my first thought about retiring." He turned back to Dumbledore. "You most likely only have days, if that, Albus, to get my property back before the situation gets worse than what you think it is." Moody gaped at what the angry man said to him as well as the abrupt dismissal, then snapped his mouth shut to watch like everyone else was doing.

Dumbledore paled slightly which made Moody bite his tongue. What could make the Leader of Light react light that? "What do you mean, Nick?" he asked meekly.

"It's Lord Flamel to you now until you bring me back my stone. And even then, maybe never again if the story about Potter is true," the man replied back curtly. Everyone gasped in shock when they realized who it was, and what was taken. "As to the question, that information you are not privy to, nor were you from the beginning. Suffice it to say that there is more to it than you thought there was."

With that, Nicholas Flamel, French immortal and leading alchemist, creator of the Elixir of Life with unlimited gold at his fingertips, raised up his hand to throw the sapphire in his hand to the ground where it shattered in a burst of blue light. When the flash faded away, the ancient man was no longer standing there.

"Morgana's bloody-" Moody began to curse before groaning in pain while holding his head tight. Not only was he blinded by the normal light, the magical vision was way worse. "Damn my magic eye. Won't be able to see out of it for hours at least."

Dumbledore, now shaky as well with the dire warning, swallowed a few times then cleared his throat. "So... yes. We need to get the Philosopher's stone," he concluded. "And quickly."

* * *

A/N: Not feeling it with my other story, so I'm not sure if I'll be continuing it yet. This is my second attempt with a fanfiction! I know Moody wasn't in character, and I don't want to do a Dumbledore bashing either. Mostly that some of his mistakes were uncovered before his head rather than after his death as it happened in the books, as well as filling in some plot holes that Rawlings didn't about political things like ICW with my own OC stuff. After all, it seems like the wizarding world didn't change one bit from the time Riddle was in school to when Harry started school, and with the amount of political sway that Dumbledore had, it can easily be assumed that Dumbledore was not a fan of times changing whereas in cannon, French accept even Veela into school and stuff.

Anyway, updates may come slow or fast depending on how my eyes and health are doing at the time! Due to my eyes, though, I may or may not be able to respond to reviews but I'll try my best to!

I love critique, not too much of a fan of flamers. So I'll ignore the latter. If you don't like the story, then don't read it, but I encourage you to write your own because I'm sure it would be great for someone to read!

Edit: Not much will be posted from Harry's perspective besides snippets like the dream the story started off with until a bit later in the story. The first several chapters will be giving you all a perspective of all of the players on the board since we all already know what Harry is like. So I'm trying something new (for me) and using other character's perspective to portray Harry.


	2. The Clock Chimes Twelve

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter nor am I making money off this. I'm just passing time writing and wishing I had that much money.

This chapter is a little choppy? Something? I hope it is easily followed even though the writing style is not something I normally do, it's from several different perspectives as things come together. Also, Chapter 1 was edited with some stuff corrected but nothing much added. I threw it out last late at night after writing it in one sitting without editing or correcting my work. I don't edit much though because when I read over my stuff, I feel like changing things haha.

Reviews on how to improve the writing style of this chapter would be appreciated if it's bad!

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Clock Chimes Twelve**

Harry Potter stared out the window in the smallest room of number four Privet Drive and wondered if Hagrid would come back to take him away. Hedwig, the snowy white owl, gave a quiet hoot towards her new owner and the boy turned his head to give her a small and sad smile. Maybe he was forgotten? His thoughts turned back to the trip that he took a couple days ago.

Diagon Alley was like nothing he'd expected and more wonderful than he could have imagined. There were a few times in school where he would get to read fantasy books that mentioned things like magic, the last one titled _So You Want To Be A Wizard_ (A/N: By Diane Duane, Young Wizards series that started in the early 80s, children/young adult book and awesome to read), but none of them could have prepared him for reality. Hagrid had started not at the bank, but at the ice cream store that had the most amazing flavors. Only after that did he get to see things like goblins (where he was told it was a Very Bad Idea to steal from them because they had dragons), and though the giant man looked green after the fun ride on the cart (which he imagined would be like a roller coaster if he had ever been allowed to go to an amusement park with his cousin), he had stayed with him to keep the crowd away. Hagrid was also very careful not to say his name loudly again and it made him feel very safe.

They had gone together to the wand shop where the creepy silver-eyed man knew who he was, too. Harry frowned slightly when he recalled the conversation about his wand (holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather core) and the brother to it that gave them the scar. Upon further questioning of Hagrid before they parted, he got the name of the wizard who did it: Voldemort. Now he knew _why_ he was famous, but he really didn't want the fame. Not if it meant all those people looking at him and judging him. The look in their eyes was different than the looks that people around here gave him, though, but it was still uncomfortable if not more.

Here, it was categorized into different kinds. His family looked at him like a freak. Unwanted. Disgust. Dislike. His teachers and neighbors looked at him like he was a liar and a trouble maker. The other students looked at him with things like pity because he was bullied, or disdain.

At the Leaky Cauldron, though, they all looked at him with _awe_. That was very unsettling, especially over something he couldn't remember. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a sharp exhale, his hand going up to flatten his hair over his scar at the same time. He didn't even know how or why he survived a curse when his family didn't. Nor, it seemed, did anyone else.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to see Hedwig giving him a comforting look as though she knew what he was thinking. "It's okay, girl. I'm just confused," he said softly. She bobbed her head and he took that as encouragement to continue to talk. "I don't really get the wizard world. Why did I live but my parents didn't survive? Why did Voldemort come after me? Why does my Aunt and Uncle hate magic? Why did they lie this whole time?"

He sighed with pent up frustration when she gave a purring coo to help him calm down, then he looked around the room filled with broken toys and his new trunk which he was sitting on. "They all think I'm great, Hedwig. I tried to read Modern Magical History that the book store owner said I should get after Hagrid asked what's best to help me learn more about the wizard world, but it feels _weird_ to be mentioned like that, you know?"

Hedwig bobbed up and down on her perch like she agreed and he stood up, smiled at her, then opened his trunk to pull out the owl treats that Hagrid had also bought as part of his birthday present. "You're a great girl," he complimented when she accepted the offering from his small hands gently. "I'm glad my aunt and uncle have left me alone since we got back yesterday. It looked like they had only just got back, too, but they haven't come by the room at all. Probably pretending I don't exist again." He added the last with a small snort then shrugged. He still had some food in his trunk, and it wouldn't be the first time his aunt and uncle kept him in one place without food for days. At least this time he had a window where he could look outside, more room, and a real bed to sleep in. Plus, for the first time, his own possessions as well.

Harry closed his trunk again to sit on the lid once more so he could go back to gazing out the window. He really hoped Hagrid would come by soon, or anyone really. Someone finally to take him away like he dreamed about so many times when he was younger and locked away in the cupboard...

* * *

"Master, I can't figure it out," came the complaint accompanied by a cringe from the young man. He had many tomes laid open on the table in the dusty and dimly lit room, several of them looking so old and fragile that a hard sneeze could make the delicate parchment disintegrate. "I've read them over and I've researched the runes on the stone itself, but a few of them are not in any of the books."

" _Fool,"_ came the sibilant hiss. though there appeared to be nobody else in the room that appeared to have been unused for years until now. " _Flamel is a master alchemist. There have only been a handful of them throughout the years. Do you know what it takes to be one, Quirrel?"_

"N-no, Master," came the stammering reply. Quirrell didn't normally stutter... but when you have a Dark Lord possessing you that could cause untold amounts of pain without needing a wand, you stutter.

" _Mastery in Ancient Runess, Arithmancy, and Potions to being with. Knowledge of Sspell Creation for both Light and Dark spellss. Wandless magic to be able to accomplish the more delicate aspects when you may not have hands free,"_ came the irritated explanation. " _A master of Ancient Runes can create their own letters as well, though each one takes years to do so. No doubt why he immortalized himsself at such an old age. Read the other translated runes out loud, idiot, and I'll think about what his own could mean."_

Quirrell gulped then nodded. "Starting with the outer ring then, master. He made them in sets of thirteen."

 _"How many ringss?"_ This time, his master sounded intrigued which made Quirrell relax a little bit.

"There are five, master. They don't appear to be tied to a central rune, either. Having been studying the stone, I don't believe it is ruby. It actually appears... made?"

 _"Would you hazzzard a guess asss to_ what _it iss made of?"_ the voice hissed back dryly.

Quirrell swallowed hard. "I'd say... blood, Master. Blood that was crystalized." His head prickled uncomfortable, the whole thing feeling like it was pins and needles, and he clenched his fists to keep himself from unwrapping the turban or rubbing his scalp.

 _"What brought you to that conclusssion?"_ his Master asked this time.

He cleared his throat nervously and licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. "As you know, master, I'm a half blood," he began with a wince. "My father was a wizard but my mother was a nurse at a muggle hospital. As such, sometimes she would come home from the emergency room with blood still on her uniform, and I found it fascinating as a child, so I would study it..."

 _"Ah, yessss. You were in Ravenclaw, so no doubt you did,"_ came the now amused reply. " _Blood would make sense to tie the rings together. Flamel working with blood magicsss, and no doubt Dumbledore knew ssince he had tried apprenticing to the man for a while."_

Quirrell startled at that drop of knowledge. The leader of light practicing what's been banned as dark? "Why didn't he continue his apprenticeship, Master?" Quirrel asked timidly.

 _"Becaussse the war with Grindelwald sstarted and Dumbledore decided to teach at Hogwarts for safety,"_ came the short reply, signalling an end to the discussion. " _Now, start reading the runesssss out loud."_

"Yes, Master," Quirrell dutifully replied before starting on the task.

* * *

Dumbledore was pouring over the headmaster's library, a collection of extremely rare books that the headmasters, and even a couple by the founders, had left behind during their tenure. His hair and beard were frazzled, his robed wrinkled, and he appeared not to have slept at all in the past couple days.

 _Damn Flamel and his games! Does he not realize how important this is?!_ He had written his old mentor to request some blood for some of the tracking charms he had come across in these books, but when Fawkes flashed back a few minutes later, it was with a note with a single word of _'No.'_

Most likely, Flamel did not live in Britain, and so didn't care if another Dark Lord rose again. Dumbledore snorted with disgust, shook his head, then summoned another book to himself wandlessly. That's the problem with those with long lives, they ended up not caring about those with normal lives. Vampires, though once human, were the same as well. He figured Flamel would have invested more in this fight saying as how he was once the man's pupil and helped him with other research.

 _'He_ did _invest,'_ Fawkes interjected. _'He had loaned you the key to his immortality, and it was lost. When I got there, he was packing while talking to his mate.'_

Dumbledore sat up straight and looked over to his familiar. "Packing? Why would he pack? What were they talking about?" he asked sharply.

Fawkes clacked his beak at the old man in warning a couple times. _'Don't take that tone with me! I do not know why they were packing. All I know was his mate was crying as well. He sent me off too quickly to learn of anything.'_

Dumbledore felt a pang of guilt at that before he used his occlumency to quash it. "Sorry, my dear Fawkes," he said to his angry familiar contritely even while his thoughts turned over the information. Now he knew why the reply had been so short, though not why he said no. Perhaps he was packing as well to get out of Britain while he could? He frowned then shook his head. No, it was not in Flamel's character to run from Dark Lords. He really didn't care about them whether they were Light or Dark except as a source of knowledge at times. But, that would be why he was a Grey Lord, and the only one that Dumbledore had heard of in centuries.

The back of his mind continued to work on Flamel's puzzling behavior even as he resumed his research into tracking charms. Maybe the next one would work though the last forty or so had failed.

* * *

That night, Harry prepared for bed after letting Hedwig out the window so she could hunt. He himself had eaten some more of his birthday cake since it would no doubt be going bad soon. The rest of the house was silent as his family had gone to sleep an hour ago, so the small boy gathered up a few water bottles and quietly snuck down into the kitchen to refill them before going back up into his room.

Thankfully, nobody woke up. He was still expecting to be ambushed and thrown back into the cupboard.

Kneeling to put away his water for the next day under his bed, he rubbed the scar on his forehead with one and frowned. It was tingling and itching, which it had never done before, and he felt... giddy? Excited? Happy? He blinked, then quickly got to his feet to scramble to his window. Maybe his magic is telling him that Hagrid is here finally!

The little boy eagerly scanned the streets, but the lamps outside didn't reveal a large man. Nobody was out there as a matter of fact.

Disappointed, the little boy heaved a sigh and trudged to his bed then quietly got under the covers. Just as quietly, he cried himself to sleep, the hope he'd held out for two days finally dying when the chiming from the clock downstairs for the third day began.

Hope, for this little boy, had been crushed far too many times for him to hold it for long anymore.

* * *

Nicholas Flamel sat on the couch while holding his wife. She had long since finished crying and now was just seeking comfort in his arms. They had decided together that giving the stone to Dumbledore to set up a trap for Voldemort in Hogwarts was fine since they were willing to die together. However, the old fool had kept it in Gringotts rather than the protections that Flamel had given to Dumbledore to use just in case it was removed from the intended room.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly to his companion once again while staring into the crackling fireplace in front of them. It earned him a slap on the arm.

"Nick, stop apologizing," Perenelle replied back and met his eyes with a her own fierce ones. "Dumbledore had said he'd protect it at the school, not that he would stash it in a vault." She paused for a moment and her expression softened as a hand raised up to stroke his cheek. "Besides, what's a few years to the centuries we've been together? I'll meet you on the other side I'm sure."

Nicholas raised his own hand and placed it on the back of hers as he gave her a gentle, yet sad smile. "A few years is a long time without my life long companions, love," he replied back.

She snorted with amusement even as her cheeks tinged slightly with a blush. "And even after centuries, you still give this old woman flowery words," she teased to lighten the mood. "We've parted for years at a time on occasion, my heart. Just think of it as another vacation like that."

Nicholas leaned in, brushed his lips on hers a couple times as his arms went around her body to hold her tightly against him, then he deepened the kiss to pour all of the love and appreciation he felt for her which she returned back just as passionately.

* * *

The clock began chiming midnight.

Somewhere, a last rune was deciphered by two very intelligent wizards.

Somewhere, a little boy sobbed silently.

Somewhere, an old wizard was failed another spell and his shoulders slumped with weary weight.

Somewhere, a couple was saying their goodbyes without words.

The last chime ended, and it ended quite normally. One would expect the last note to ring out triumphantly or to sound like doom depending on what side of the fence you sit on, but there was no indication that the new day would bring drastic changes into everyone's lives. No new prophecies were made by a seer sitting in a tower drinking cooking wine, no odd feelings by a potion master gathering the ingredients he'd need for potions he planned to brew to trap his old Master out in South America, and nobody noticed the prophecy orb in the Department of Mysteries in the sub levels of the Ministry that was marked for the Dark Lord and Harry Potter (?) went grey, signifying that it no longer applied. The last would not be noticed for a couple of days.

Fate had stilled her hands for the moment to just watch.

* * *

Harry Potter woke up to the sound of banging on his door. "Boy!" his Aunt Petunia called with her nasally voice. "Get up and get down to the kitchen. Your Uncle wants to _talk_ to you." He froze for a second, then his motions turned into a flurry of movement when he hastily started to dress. He heard his aunt's footsteps when she moved away and figured she heard him getting himself ready.

Once dressed, he rushed to the bathroom to use the facilities, then washed his face when he saw that his eyes were still red from crying the night before. Pausing only to inspect himself in the mirror again to make sure he was presentable, he made his way down to the kitchen to start breakfast.

His uncle was already seated and reading the paper. The walrus-like man did not acknowledge the black haired boy who had started cooking, and said young child was used to the behavior. Talks usually happened only after meals were eaten, so the best he could do was to make the food as good as he could and hope that it would be enough to placate the temperamental man. He only hoped he wouldn't be forced back into the cupboard since Hedwig needed to hunt and he really liked having a window.

The kitchen remained silent besides the sound of the paper rustling and the food being cooked until Dudley came just as the finishing touches to the omelette was completed. "Dad! What is that _freak_ doing in here?!" the fat boy whined while still standing in the doorway. "I don't want him in here! I don't want him in my room!"

Harry said nothing and pretended not to exist while putting the food onto plates. "My sweet little Duddikins," his aunt coaxed in a sickly sweet voice from behind her son. "Go on into the kitchen and have a seat. Don't forget we have that appointment today, too."

Vernon grunted and set the paper to the side. "Gotta set down some firm rules for the boy," he added gruffly to his son.

"But I don't want him in here!" Dudley wailed as his hands went to his backside where the curly tail was. The appointment to the doctors his mom just mentioned reminded him about it and the scariest night of his short life. "He'll do his freakish things!"

Harry still had not uttered a word while his family talked about him. During Dudley's tantrum, he had finished serving up the food and had withdrawn into a corner to wait it out.

"Don't worry, mummy will protect her sweet little Dudders," Aunt Petunia cooed to her son as she started to steer him inside with both hands on his shoulders. "And I'll take you to the toy store after your appointment! You can pick anything you'd like there."

Dudley's face screwed up for a second in thought then melted away into a grin. "Alright," he agreed before sitting down to start shoveling food into his mouth.

The two adults glanced over to Harry, exchanged a look that he couldn't decipher with each other, then started eating as well. Since he wasn't invited, it meant he would either get the cold leftovers (if there was any) or nothing at all. Harry slumped against the wall and waited for them to finish.

Indeed, there was nothing left on the dining room table when everyone finished their meals. Petunia glared scathingly at Harry once as she gathered up her son to get him ready to leave the house, and Vernon pointed at the chair Harry was allowed to use, Harry moved over to sit down carefully, used to the wobbly leg (which is why it was his chair).

"Just because you found out about your... freakishness... doesn't mean I'll be having it under my roof!" his Uncle stated. "There will be no funny business while you continue to live here and you'll continue to work for your keep!"

Harry nodded while keeping his eyes respectfully downcast, not wanting to draw more anger towards himself.

"We took you in because the other freaks left you on our doorstep, so stop skulking about like you have for the past couple days and get back to doing your chores!" his uncle continued. Harry couldn't help at the small flinch from the reminder that even the wizards didn't want him, and he could hear the spiteful glee in his uncle's voice showing the older man hadn't missed that, either. "That's right, _boy_. Show your gratitude to your aunt and I for even taking you in. As long as you don't do anything _funny_ , we'll let you keep your new room, too."

Harry nodded again. "Thank you, Uncle Vernon," he replied meekly. "May I have my list of chores for today?"

Harry held his breath for a second when his uncle didn't immediately reply, no doubt analyzing his words for anything to punish him for, then grunted finally. "It's posted on the fridge, boy," the large man said as he stood up to leave. "And make sure to wash the dishes first since your mother is busy taking care of the problem that your friend caused."

Harry stood up once his uncle had left the room and began his chores for the day quietly. He had no friends, he had wanted to shout. He didn't think that it would be worth being thrown back into the cupboard, though. Nobody had come, after all.

* * *

Master, the brew is nearly complete," Quirrell announced as he worked. The large oak table that contained the kit he had put together to unlock the stone's powers was once used as a dining room table. Now it held contraptions and books, making it look like a lab table for a mad scientist. A blood red stone was suspended in the center, held up by a glowing magical circle that had been carved into the wood below it and each corner of the table had a cauldron with a small flame below it. This room was not as dusty as the one he was using the night before, but only because he had cleaned it in preparation of the ritual that was needed to unlock the stone's powers.

" _Good,"_ came the pleased reply of the Dark Lord. " _When I regain my form, Quirrell, you sshall be rewarded above all othersss."_

The wizard smirked and nodded. "Shall I get the muggles now then, master?" he asked.

 _"Yesss,"_ was the hissed response. " _But be quick. Five are needed for the next step, and you have fifteen minutesss to retrieve them. I do not care who they are, jusst that it be done as fasst as possible. I will be resurrected before the day endssss!"_

Quirrell's smirk widened into a sadistic smile at the triumphant ending to his companion's commands. "Yes, Master," he agreed. With a _crack_ , he disapparated to gather the last of the needed ingredients.

* * *

While a small boy weeded his aunt's garden late in the afternoon, Albus Dumbledore woke up to someone shouting his name from the fireplace with a groan. He rubbed his face while realizing he had passed out with exhaustion over his desk leaving him with a sore neck, then used a silent and wandless command to put a glamour on so he could conceal how shabby he looked before standing to move to the crackling green fire with Mad-Eye Moody's head.

"Albus, there you are! Been calling you for the last couple minutes!" the grizzled veteran said when the old wizard came into view. "Got news from my contacts at Azkaban."

Dumbledore immediately became alert and he hurried the last couple steps to kneel so he'd be at eye level with Moody. "What did you hear, Alistair?" he asked.

The twisted and scarred lips on the ex-auror pursed for a moment. "My contact says there has been unrest from the death eaters still alive in the cells. They'd been pretty silent for the past few years with the exceptions of fanatics like the Blacks, but even the ones who had gone completely silent are started to mutter," he explained with a low growl. "They've sent more dementors to patrol those corridors to make sure the scum aren't conspiring to break out."

Albus nodded slowly as he processed the new puzzle piece in with the rest. "Then that means we are short on time. Has anyone else in the Order found any new information on locations?"

Moody shook his head no, the movement causing the scars covering his face to highlight and shadow in a ghastly way. "Even Mundungus's criminal contacts don't seem to be aware of anything. Whoever got the Stone, Dumbledore, is being very careful not to cause ripples."

The older wizard grimaced. "I believe Severus should be joining us soon, I've sent him a message," he said, then held up a hand before Moody could object about having a death eater joining them in their search. "I trust him implicitly, my friend, and he is the only person who might be able to shed some light into the situation at Azkaban."

"Still don't have to like it," Moody spat out in return. "Nor do I have to trust the snake. Once a traitor, always a traitor, Dumbledore."

Albus directed a stern look at Moody, causing the man to quiet down though by no means intimidating him. "Be that as it may, he's a valuable asset and could benefit us in the war to come. We will all need to work together to overcome the darkness that's approaching," he explained sagaciously.

Moody snorted in reply, never having been taken in by Dumbledore's forgiveness policy, but he didn't disagree. "Well, I'll go see what else I can scrounge up then," he said instead. "Maybe make a few visits to some sympathizers of the Dark." Without saying goodbye or waiting for a reply, Moody's head withdrew which made the flames resume its normal colors.

Dumbledore sighed and pulled off his glasses so he could rub at his tired eyes. No doubt there were bags under them and the twinkle was gone, he mused to himself briefly before his thought processed moved forward with the new information.

With normal criminals not stirring, that meant, most likely, that gold was not suddenly fluctuating in. That could mean that the thief has simply not figured out how to use the stone. However with the addition of the Death Eaters in the wizarding prison also seeming to gain a second wind, most likely the culprit was Tom Riddle. It would also mean that he was very close to attaining a new body.

Dumbledore slumped as his thoughts turned to the boy from the orphanage. He had made so many mistakes with that boy, and he couldn't help but feel that it was his fault that Tom Riddle had turned out the way he did.

 _'We all make our own decisions,'_ came Fawkes's sympathetic thoughts through their link. _'Yes, you could have found a better home for the boy, but it was his decision as both a boy, and a man, to harm others. You cannot take the blame of all those deaths upon your shoulders."_

A tear tracked down the old wizard's tired cheeks as he shook his head in reply. "Thank you, Fawkes, but I had already judged him as evil and so did not teach him right from wrong," he sighed out. "Though I did not wave the wand to kill directly, it was my lack of intervention that caused this situation to occur."

 _'You should not apply what happened to your sister to this, either,'_ Fawkes thought compassionately. _'You were young-'_

Dumbledore cut off the mental link by slamming down his occlumency and glared at his bird. "That _was_ my fault, and there is no excuse for it," he replied back shortly before slumping again. "No, sorry my friend, I did not mean to snap at you. But... Arianna's death tore up what family I had left, and had it not been because I was dabbling with powers I should not have been while planning to change the world through force with Gellert..."

Fawkes didn't respond with a mental command though the one he was tied to had let go of his shields with the apology. Instead, he trilled out into song to comfort the man he'd known who felt the burden of responsibility for an entire country and more.

Dumbledore felt himself brought out of the guilt he had wallowed in when his exhaustion lifted due to his familiar's singing and he gave the phoenix a smile of gratitude as he picked himself up from the floor in front of the fireplace. He had no time for this, he realized. He needed to call in his spy, and now.

* * *

Severus Snape was relaxed this very early morning even as he was hard at work in the the magical wilds deep within the Amazons. He was covered in insect bites (both magical and non magical), sweating under the lighter robes he had picked up because of the heat and humidity of the rain forest, and covered in grime but he was pretty happy. No children, solitude, and pursuing something he truly appreciated gave him a sense of satisfaction he hadn't felt for years. As long as he didn't think about _why_ he needed rare ingredients to brew the upcoming potions and poisons he would need, anyway.

The Dark Lord was trying to come back to life.

His body tensed and he grunted as his thoughts wandered in that direction again, but that reaction caused him to get a bitten by the carnivorous plant he was trying to get a clipping off of. Luckily, it was just a small scratch, but he cursed since that would make clippings from this vine unusable from the plant. He stood up briskly and moved off to find another patch of the Polka-Dotted Palo Santo vine.

He brooded as his eyes searched for the incense tree that the vines grew on while he trudged through, carefully watching for dangers as well. The Potter brat would be starting this year, and Dumbledore was setting a trap for the Dark Lord thinking that, since the boy would be making his first appearance since that night, he might appear to make another attempt on the boy. The boy that Lily died for and the one he made an Unbreakable Vow for to try to repent for the murder he regretted being responsible for.

He folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes as he carefully sidestepped a bog, the top of the murky water rippling slightly with his passing to show that there was something living within the muddy water. He was to also prepare a trap, though he didn't know why Albus wanted him to also prepare a riddle to go with it that could be solved. It would have just been better to make all of the vials poisons, in his opinion, and only give the antidote to the flames to those who were authorized the plan. He tried to tell the old fool just that, but Dumbledore waves him off with excuses about how nobody should have to die like that if they got that far.

Then he was ignored when he offered to make sure that the poison would kill quickly and painlessly like his suggestion was a joke. Snape rolled his eyes then reached deeper into his sleeves to scratch at his itchy arm.

He had run out of the potion he used to keep the insects away on the third day here, and he'd been here for a total of six. He'd left most of his possessions back in the tavern room (if it the large community hut could be called that) back in the magical village that was a day's walk from his current position. It took him over a day to shake loose the Ao Ao that had chased him after he sheared some of its wool. The damn creature had woken up too soon from the sleeping drought just as he collected the last of what he needed, and so he lost time while he ran and tried to read up on how to get rid of the cannibalistic monster. The book he had didn't have much information, unfortunately, but when he came across the passage that they were either once human, or at least half human, he tried obliviating it of the memory it had of both him, and his scent. Thankfully, it worked.

It also made him reconsider hiring a guide, but he didn't want to spend time with a native and a stranger. Even the thought of doing so made him sneer, but that expression turned into a smile when he found another outcropping of the vines. He hurries over and pulled the collection kit out of his expandable bag, then kneeled down and got closer while holding his breath. The plants knew when flesh was around by the exhale of air that all living creatures made, so he was careful not to breathe out as he clipped off the stamen from several flowers. Once he gathered enough samples, he got up and quickly backed away to take several gulps of air.

His triumphant smile and happy mood disappeared, though, when a phoenix patronus approached him and he sneered at it with contempt. Damn the man! Can't he even finish his mission without being bothered?!

 _'Severus, you need to return now. The Stone was stolen before we could retrieve it.'_

The dour man paled at the news, put his kit back into his bag, then disappeared to collect the rest of his things from the village. He should have known that being able to relax was just a harbinger of ill omen.

* * *

Due to the time zone differences, by the time Severus made it back to the ancient castle where the rest of the Order was gathered, it was late evening. He was in a foul mood, even worse than usual, and so when he swooped in to take a seat at the Ravenclaw table (why Ravenclaw, anyway?), he didn't even notice the distrusting glares that was being directed his way.

"I still don't see why Flamel isn't here, Dumbledore," said the red headed matron of the Weasley clan. "Isn't he worried about the stone and you-know-who?"

Though most wouldn't be able to see it, Snape was both a spy and had been around Dumbledore to catch small telltale signs that he kept hidden from others. A small tightening of wrinkles around the corner of his twinkling blue eyes showed irritation and the flick of the tongue on teeth right before the friendly smile told him impatience. That means it probably wasn't the first time the shrill woman had asked that, or she wasn't the only one asking that.

"Molly, as I've said, Flamel is doing other things from his end," Dumbledore placated while holding up a hand to keep others from interrupting him. "And no, he has not divulged to me what he's doing. Now then, our last member is here. Have you anything... new... to report, Severus?"

The potion master wanted to snarl at the old man when all the people gathered looked at him, but he bit his tongue. "The Dark Mark has become nearly as clear as it used to be at the height of His power," he said coolly instead, keeping his expression blank though he wanted to smirk when everyone else started talking in panic at the same time.

Dumbledore got everyone's attention after a minute with a loud bang from his wand. "Thank you for your silence," he said gravely. "We do not have time to panic, however. Kingsley, will you report to Madam Bones about the new development? I'm sure the other Death Eaters in the cells can be used as further proof along with their restlessness."

The tall, dark-skinned man nodded, but before he could reply, Moody addressed Snape with a sneer. "I bet you're glad to see your master is coming back, Snape," he growled out before tapping at the corner of his magical eye. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."

Severus only replied with a sneer of his own and Dumbledore intervened. "Moody, like I said, Severus atoned for his mistakes long ago and has my full confidence," he said sternly. "We do not need to bicker amongst ourselves right now."

The scarred man glowered at the ex-death eater for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the proceedings. "Do we know where the Stone is, yet?" he asked in return.

"Not as of yet, but we haven't tried all methods," Dumbledore replied back.

With all the attention going back to the meeting and off of him, Snape kept one ear open while he rubbed at his upper arm and thought about things. When it wrapped up a couple hours later, however, not much had been settled upon to his disgust. Just that Bones and Fudge needed to be told, but the feeling of panic and fear from the other members had faded because they felt like more was being done.

Severus could read the information that Dumbledore was hiding, though. Flamel was no longer involved for some reason, Dumbledore could not track the stone, and nobody knew where the Dark Lord was. It was only after he slipped down into the dungeons by himself to go to his quarters that night that he began his own plotting on what to do once the Dark Lord came into power once again. All for Harry Potter.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for the follows and reviews! This is Chapter 2. I have no idea how long it will be, really, the story is still a bit fuzzy overall, but I am enjoying how it's coming together. I hope you all do as well =) I have to say kudos to the people who can write 10k+ words in one chapter, I'm struggling to get over 5k honestly. My brain tries to tell me the chapter should be over once I hit 3-4k.

As a teaser, next Chapter will be titled "A new home."


	3. A New Home

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry potter, but I'm sure we all wish we did. J.K. Rowlings talent with drawing an audience into a story is worth much more than the money she got in my opinion. While I'm wishing, I would like a slice of pumpkin pie, please.

* * *

 _The cold room was dimly lit by candles on the stone floor. As he looked over the circle and shapes carved into the the floor, he noticed something odd about his body as he checked the_ _runes at his feet._

Ah, his feet. There were no toes? No, he was looking down at his heels.

 _Oblivious to that information, he continued looking over his work carefully, and a giddy feeling of anticipation and excitement rose. Finally, it was done! He was ready! He closed his eyes._

 _When they opened next, it was to the echoes of dying gasps coming from behind him. He didn't care about that._

Dying? Why wouldn't he care about that?

 _No, he was checking over the carvings he had made earlier that was now filled with blood. Awkwardly, he moved the hand holding the final ingredient behind his back..._

Only to see a hand holding a vial of pure and shimmering liquid move in front of him. He grew even more confused.

 _...And he stepped backwards to move forwards into the circle to drip a drop into each blood-filled rune. As the power of the elixir fused with the red liquid, a candle would extinguish and the rune would glow with a soft light._

 _Then, the last rune was lit._

The world exploded with pain and glory.

* * *

A blood curdling scream that pierced through the dark house jerked the Dursley family awake. Vernon scrambled out of bed to yank open the closet door for a bat while Petunia turned on the room light then rushed out into the hallway to tend to her son. However, she stopped in the doorway of her room when Harry stumbled out of his room and into the dark hall with his hands to his face with a groan.

Vernon, right behind her now, snarled at the shadowy figure of the boy as he swayed. "Boy, was that you that made that ruckus?!" he demanded in outrage before moving Petunia to the side to storm towards the child. "You think that just because you found out about your freakish world, you have the right to wake up hardworking and honest people in this house?!" Harry's silhouette in the dark hallway only responded with a cringe when his uncle grabbed him by the arm to begin shaking him.

"Mum? Dad?" Dudley sleepily asked when he opened his room door and stuck his head out. "What was that?" The boy turned the hallway light to look about curiously, then he sneered when he saw his black haired cousin being shaken by his dad but then squinted in confusion. "Why is there blood?" he asked.

Petunia turned her attention back to her nephew and husband then gasped. Harry's face was nearly a mask of blood, and with Vernon's shaking, it was also now all over the boy's sleepwear and droplets were splattering down to the floor. "Vernon," she said sharply as she hurried over. "You're making him bleed all over my clean floors!"

The furious man's mustache bristled up as he let go of the boy who had remained silent but some the muffled whimpers, and he backed up so Petunia could check him over. "No doubt that ruddy bird attacked him in his sleep," he replied coldly. "We should get rid of the blasted creature once and for all."

However, when he turned to storm into the room, Harry spoke up. "No! Please! Not Hedwig," he cried out while reaching out to grab his uncle's pajama to stop him. "She didn't do anything, I swear! It just happened while I was sleeping! I'll stop bleeding on the floors, just don't hurt her!"

Both of the adults paused and looked at the boy; Petunia with concern that she hid under a disapproving glare, and Vernon with disgust. "Another part of your freakishness?" Vernon spat out, but when he turned away from the room to head back to his own, Petunia could see the relief on the boy's face. It had been a long time since she'd last seen him stand up for something.

"Come on, then," Petunia said impatiently as she held a hand out to the boy. "We need to get you to the bathroom to clean that mess up. Dudley, my sweet boy, go back to sleep." Dudley smiled at his mom then closed his room door.

Harry nodded and took her hand so she could tug him into the bathroom where he was sat on the toilet seat. With his eyes looking down into his lap, he couldn't see the concern in hers as she mopped up the blood then began to disinfect his forehead where it had all stemmed from. The scar had split open and looked as fresh as it was when he was initially dropped off on her doorstep.

"Harry?" Petunia asked softly while applying a bandage. The tone of her voice caused the boy to look at her for the first time tonight in surprise. "Did something happen at... the other place to cause this?"

Harry paused for a moment with a thoughtful expression but wary eyes. "No, Aunt Petunia. At least, I don't think so," he replied back finally.

Petunia pursed her lips and Harry immediately dropped his eyes down again. _Lily's eyes_. She felt a slight pang of guilt for a moment about how the boy was treated, then she shook her head. Well, it's not like she asked for the kid to be dropped on her doorstep. "Make sure you clean up the floor," she said in the more brusque manner that Harry was more accustomed to and got a nod in response before she turned and left.

On her way back to the room she shared with her husband, she warred with her emotions. She felt bitterly angry still that she was saddled with a freak without warning. a baby left on her front stoop on a cold November day with only a note to tell her of her sister's death and how she had to care for a child she didn't want. Buried beneath that, though, were feelings of remorse for her lost sister and the child that came from her. As always, it made her direct her anger at the only living person she could take it out on, but the guilt also made her step in when Vernon was getting too heavy handed.

As she got ready to sleep again, she could hear the sounds of the water faucet running in the bathroom for a couple minutes, no doubt cleaning up all the blood in his messy hair, and then she heard Harry's room door close quietly. The house settled down again and she fell asleep with thoughts of how angry Lily would be at her if she had still been alive.

* * *

 _"Quirrell... there isss an errand I want you to make for me,"_ the newly resurrected Dark Lord hissed to the minion kneeling at his feet. His pale white hand stroked the velvety black robes he was now wearing as the blood red eyes looked down at the quivering wizard.

"Yes, Master?" Quirrell asked in a tone both fearful and eager to please.

Voldemort's lipless mouth twisted into a pleased smile at the tone. "In the morning, I want you to retrieve the boy. You still have the position at Hogwarts as the next Defense professor. Speak to Hagrid about where the boy lives, the oaf is stupid enough to give it to you."

"Yes, Master," Quirrell immediately agreed before getting up to back away, bowing the whole time, but stopped when his Lord cleared his throat in a clear tone that he was not dismissed as of yet.

" _There is one more thing you must do at the ssschool,"_ Voldemort said. _"And you must not fail with either tassk. On the ssseventh floor, in the corridor, there is a tapestry of Barnabuss the Barmy. You are to pace in front of the wall across it three times while you think of a good place to hide something."_ Voldemort smirked when he could feel the confusion from Quirrell from such an odd instruction. _"A doorway will appear then. You are to go in, seek out a headdress wearing a diadem by a cabinet, and bring it back. Both tasskss are to be done while nobody iss about, so I suggesst you start now."_

Quirrell nodded without looking up and quickly made his exit with the clear dismissal. Once upon a time, Voldemort would have crucio'ed a minion immediately if they had tried to exit without permission, but he kept that urge at bay this time.

Once alone, Voldemort took a deep breath and settled into a chair. Ten years as nothing more than a wraith had given him a reprieve from the insanity he had suffered due to the horcruxes he had created, though he could already feel it starting to claw at the edges of his mind once again. He had a very short time frame to start his plotting before Dumbledore could confirm he really was here, and the key to getting a jump start was his as-of-yet Unmarked minion. He will not be branding Quirrell until the man's use without the controlling tattoo was through.

He also needed to do a few more things while said minion was busy.

Voldemort stood up gracefully, moved to the table that contained the hard-sought stone, and plucked it out of the air to pocket it within his robes. Then he spun on his heel and focused on the place he had hidden for ten years with a confident smirk.

Apparating into a clearing deep within the 'haunted' woods the locals no longer dared to enter, he hissed loudly. _$Nagini, my pet. I have returned asss promisssed.$_

A few minutes passed and then the twisted and nearly dead bushes nearby rustled when a small and green grass snake slithered out. _$Greetingsss, massster,$_ she hissed as she came closer to him. _$Do you need help finding another to posssessss?$_

Voldemort hissed with a low chuckle as he stooped down to gather her up. _$No, my preciousss one,$_ he replied. _$Thiss iss the one I originally wore. Now, asss promisssed, I sshall grant you what you want when we return home. It will be painful, though, asss I warned you long ago.$_

Nagini gave a delicate snake-like snort. $ _And asss I said back then, it isss better than being the victim in the tale of the Eagle,$_ she replied back primly. _$I want powerful venom and a larger form so as to have the power to change the tale. I no longer wisssh to be made fun of by the aderssssss.$_

Voldemort smiled at his vain companion and nodded his head in agreement. The complaints on poisonous adders was something he'd heard many times in the last decade and it still caused him amusement even after all this time.

 _$As you wisshh, then_ _,$_ he agreed before spinning on his heel to apparate to his next destination.

The new location was an overgrown yard that belonged to the crumbling remains of the Gaunt's old mansion. Voldemort paused to catch his breath while Nagini hissed in his arms with anger at the sudden transportation. Most wizards were lucky to be able to do cross-country apparition. Voldemort, with his magical strength, could cross several country borders easily normally. However, he had just done it twice in the span of only a few minutes after attaining a new body but a couple hours ago. It had sapped a lot of magical energy that his body hadn't stored up yet.

But time, and the clawing of his split soul, was pushing him. And he no longer needed horcruxes, or at least, not all of them. He now had immortality in his pocket but he wouldn't rely solely on the stone. He just needed to gather enough soul pieces to regain his sanity before he started making the same mistakes he did last time.

 _$Ssorry, Nagini. I forgot that thisss is new to you,$_ he apologized to his companion to placate her. She had been with him for several years, had helped scout out new bodies for him to possess -mainly those of adders that had stolen her meals- and had provided conversation on the nights when all he had was despair of being stuck in an existence of non-life. That was why he apologized to her now, and another reason why he was collecting his horcruxes. He would not be going through with that again if he could help it.

 _$Jusst make sure you warn me next time,$_ she hissed back. _$That wass uncomfortable. I nearly lost the lizzzard I ate earlier!$_

He rubbed her triangular head while his eyes searched his surroundings. All of his traps and wards had not been triggered the entire time he was gone, and by the look of the overgrown dirt path that led to the house from the main road, it appeared that nobody had been here at all. With a satisfied nod, he strolled towards the hut with the skeletal snake nailed to the door. With grimace of distaste at what he had thought would be intimidating at the height of his madness, his hissed the password to the undead creature so that the building would recognize him as its master to allow him to pass through it all unharmed and went inside. Nagini gave a delicate sniff to show her own dislike of the stale air within the ramshackle hut, and she slithered to wind herself up on his arm under his robe as he glided over to a rusty cauldron sitting in the fireplace.

He reached into his robes to pull out a crystal vial, then poured the contents into the dark green viscous goop within to neutralize the curse. The tar-like substance bubbled up, releasing a foul steam that smelled like an open grave, then it slowly turned into a clear blue where he could see the gaunt family ring at the bottom. Smirking, he pulled out a second vial, and dripped one drop into the seemingly innocent liquid and it immediately dissipated, leaving the ring to itself. He reached in and plucked it out.

He had figured it almost justifying to put the family ring into the cauldron that his mother first brewed the love potion for his father, he mused to himself. Most likely one of his more saner thoughts, because he still felt the same. The trap that had been put in to hide his horcrux, though, was a nasty piece that he had uncovered from ancient Egyptian texts. It was a two fold process. Whereas the thick (and obviously a trap) liquid would immediately eat at the flesh that touched it and expand as though fed, the blue and more innocent looking one was the insidious part. A single touch would cause all of the liquid within to seep into a wizard's magical core to become one with them, and from there, it would painfully curse the victim with mummy rot. He was the only person alive to have the knowledge of the counter curse to the two-fold trap, so had any fallen victim to either form, there would have been no surviving it.

He studied the ring for several seconds, then his lips curled into a sinister smile. With a wave of his hand, an illusion of the ring appeared at the bottom of the cauldron, then Voldemort slipped a flask to refill it once again before heading out. He had the rest of his Horcuxes to collect.

* * *

Quirrell spent the whole night scouring the room of requirements before he finally found the diadem he was instructed to collect and put into a bag made of triple weave acromantula silk, a basic precaution when handling very Dark objects. It had been a daunting task only because of the size of the room, but it was nowhere near as difficult as the next part of his mission while at Hogwarts - getting Hagrid to divulge where Harry Potter lived.

It was just after the sun rose when he made his way through the large doors and out onto the grassy grounds. Having already been the Muggle Studies professor for a few years before his fateful trip to Albania, he know where he could find Hagrid. The question he was asking himself was how to get the information out of the gamekeeper? Standing at the bottom of the steps to the castle, he quickly formulated an idea and decided to go to Hogsmeade first.

As he took the dirt path that had been used for centuries by teachers and students alike to get to the wizarding village, his thoughts ended up reflecting over the past few years. He had decided on a sabbatical because he had been tired of teaching ignorant children outdated and often wrong information about muggle life. Being a half blood and growing up in both worlds, he knew the information he had to teach was about half a century out of date. Yet every time he had tried to make a request to the board about better books to use, he would be turned down.

Having been a Ravenclaw while at Hogwarts, he found the spreading of outdated and incorrect information nearly blasphemous. The reasons on _why_ his requests kept being bounced back was also ridiculous, more so when other teachers got to choose their book selections. After the first year of teaching, he was denied because the paperwork was filed incorrectly. The second year, after making sure everything was filled to perfection, the paperwork had been lost. Third year, the board did not have time to review what all needed to be updated due to the need to read over the Magical History curriculum, something that had not been updated even while he still attended the school. That last reason was what made him rethink what class he wanted to teach since it was blindingly obvious that the board did not want it changed. The last set of forms he completed to see about getting the class updated before his sabbatical didn't even get a response.

He only found out the truth after he met the Dark Lord in "Albania".

The path that led him in that direction was his search for the descendants of Rowena Ravenclaw. As a student, he had written a five foot essay on her for class. History spoke in passing about her having had a single daughter, however nothing beyond that was noted. At the time, he had dismissed it and focused mainly on writing up on the founder he chose, but only in his final year of schooling did he find a book in the Ravenclaw common room that hinted about something even darker that might have happened.

It was a very old book about the common plants that could be found in the forbidden forest written in Gaelic by a student around the time period of the founders. The nameless author had mentioned in passing that Rowena Ravenclaw had been dying and she had hired a baron to go find the daughter who had been missing in Albania. Having found no connection to the country north of Greece to the four founders, he began to look through muggle texts. And what he found out was astounding.

During the founder's time, Albania -or Alba- was the Latinization for Scotland. Helena Ravenclaw was somewhere in Scotland and had run away at a young age, and where she went and why intrigued him. Unfortunately, that journal did not contain further information besides that the great Rowena had passed away without reuniting with her daughter.

He got to the three broomsticks around this time, and putting on a timid countenance once again, he entered.

"G-greetings, Rosmerta," he greeted with a twitchy smile as he approached the bar. "Lovely m-morning, yes?"

He kept his annoyance hidden when the lovely witch turned to him with pity in her eyes even as she gave him a welcoming smile. "Yes it is, professor. Have you stopped by for some breakfast?" she asked sympathetically.

He wrung his hands for show while shifting on his feet uncertainly and shaking his head no. "N-not t-today, Madam," he replied back. "I need a few b-bottles of fire w-whiskey. G-going to meet up with an old f-friend tonight."

"Oh, that sounds delightful!" she said over enthusiastically, and when she turned to retrieve the bottles, he couldn't help but roll his eyes at her back. He was supposed to be _traumatized_ by his sabbatical, not turned into a six year old. "Here you are, one galleon a bottle."

He fumbled four out, dropped one and leaned down to snatch it up while giving her an abashed look, then accepted the bottles she passed him over. "Th-thanks, p-p-pleasure as always," he stuttered out while he backed away to the door, then quickly fled the establishment.

Once he got a bit aways, he slowed down his pace and sneered. People were gullible, but not he. He penetrated a secret thought lost for almost a thousand years when he searched out where the lost Ravenclaw might have fled to. During his leave of absence, he sought out every magical forest until he stumbled across the Dark Lord. There, he got all of the answers he sought and then more.

Helena Ravenclaw had stole her mother's diadem and the baron had caught her and killed her in the very forest that he had found his master in.

The muggle study curriculum was deliberately held back for a specific, though: control. The purebloods didn't want it known that muggles had progressed so far, and that worked because they also taught their children to stay away from mudbloods if they were a dark family, or to help them integrate into the wizarding world if they were a light family. The muggleborn themselves knew that the course was a joke, but they had no voice in the Wizengamot or the school board to promote change.

In short, the wizarding world itself wanted to stay segregated. Not just Britain, but almost all of it. They cited the Statute of Secrecy for the reason, but that deliberately created ignorance would get them all killed one day. Even if they stayed hidden, if the muggles themselves ended up declaring another world war, it could be the end of everyone just through fallout from nuclear warfare. Wards could not help if the skies were blotted out until the sun was blocked and the waters all polluted.

He knew this without Voldemort having to explain it like his master would have to to the purebloods when the time came. His master had explained to him, though, that a madness had overcome him during the last war and that the fear of muggles had overtaken his mind. The past ten years of isolation as a wraith had helped heal a lot of it, he was told. Then, his master had promised him a position if he joined him, a job that he had originally wanted, but it wasn't really available for a half blood like him.

He smiled wide as he walked into Hagrid's hut, keeping a cheerful demeanor while having to spend time with an imbecile by thinking about his future as a researcher. The Ministry didn't allow half bloods to work in the Department of Mysteries unless they had contacts, so now he was forging his own path forward.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was pacing in his office once again. Had he had carpet or rugs, they would surely have been worn threadbare along his normal route. As it was, the stone along where he had spent years pacing when he would get stressed out had a visible path if anyone knew where to look.

 _'Why don't you have some tea?'_ Fawkes asked him suddenly, the warmth and concern in the phoenix's thoughts easing some of the strain from him.

He nodded and snapped his fingers. An elf appeared immediately. "Tea please, Dizzy?" he requested with a smile before the small creature could ask, and with an eager nod, Dizzy levitated some books off of his desk where tea was set out just as he liked it. He sat down on his chair with a small groan.

"I have been summoned to the ministry, Fawkes," he explained to his companion after a couple sips. "Most likely to discuss Harry Potter. I can't divulge all of the information, though, and I'm in a dilemma on how to explain why I sent him to muggles."

Fawkes crooned softly in reply and Dumbledore gave him a tired smile. "Well, thank you for understanding," he said, grateful that the spat that had been lasting for a few days seemed to finally be at an end. "I can't tell them about the blood wards. If that information fell into the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic for the boy himself. If I tell them where he was, then he would become a target by the press, well meaning fans, and the death eaters that we were unable to round up. I've been in the spotlight after defeating a dark lord, and it's not a pleasant place to be. I really want to protect him."

 _'I still don't see why you can't visit him to make sure he's not abused,'_ Fawkes replied back, though without the rancor this time.

Albus set down his tea cup and rubbed his forehead. "It could draw attention, first off. People are always watching me, Fawkes," he explained before leaning back into his chair with a sigh. "Whether it's to keep track of my movements, because they look up to me, or they covet my position, someone could take note if I disappear."

 _'But the wards only protect against whose with the Dark Mark, right?'_ Fawkes pressed. _'What of his own family? We've had muggleborns in school that were severely abused by their own family. Some ended up never returning again in some instances. Wizards treasure their own heirs and descendants, unless they are insane. That insanity seems to run in a lot of muggles?'_

The headmaster shook his head no in reply. "It's not an insanity, Fawkes. Magic herself, I believe, keeps us from harming our own children unless its twisted by a sickness of the mind," he explained. "Muggles have no magic, so they can cause harm to their own children without being insane. I would have bound the boy to anyone else if I could have, but James's parents were taking away by dragon pox, and Lily's parents, too, had already passed on. Her sacrifice would have been for nothing had I not given the boy up to Petunia."

Fawkes clacked his beak a couple times before he launched himself off his perch to land on the back of Albus's chair, and he started grooming the long grey beard affectionately to comfort him.

"Yes, it was a hard decision," he admitted as he stroked his familiar's neck. "And one I wish I could afford to regret, but I cannot. I do regret that I put all of my eggs in one basket, however. I should not have relied so heavily on the prophecy, for had I not, then I would not have lost the stone as well."

The bird stopped grooming to look Dumbledore with curiosity shining in its black eyes. _'Why not use a love potion to make the muggles love him?'_ he asked mentally.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say it wasn't possible, then he shut it and stared back flabbergasted. The bird didn't mean the kind of love potion that induced feelings of obsession and/or lust, he meant the kind that might give them a more familial feeling. His eyes wandered away from the coal black ones as he pursed his lips in deep thought while going over what he knew about those kinds of subjects.

"There is an old story about changelings..." he said slowly, breaking the silence after several minutes. Fawkes waited patiently for him to continue. "Changelings is what the muggles would call babies that were swapped out while in their cradles. In ancient times, before Hogwarts was even founded, if a witch or wizard came across a child in a muggle village that hated magic, they would swap out children with another family in a different village where magic was more accepted. It wasn't a wide or common practice, but it happened often enough for the muggles to add it to legends. And when the child would get old enough, the wizard or witch would come along and collect them as an apprentice, sometimes without even telling the family. There... might be a potion in some of those old texts."

Fawkes picked up on grooming the silver beard once more when the old wizard went back deep in thought once again. Not another word was said until he had to leave for the ministry half an hour later, and the phoenix accompanied him on his shoulder.

* * *

That afternoon, while Dumbledore was busy at the ministry, Petunia answered a knock at her door. Seeing a middle-aged man in a respectable business suit standing there, she smiled politely.

"May I help you, sir?" she asked.

The stranger gave a polite smile back and gestured to a briefcase he held. "Yes, ma'am. Are you Petunia Dursely?" At her nod, he continued. "I'm here on behalf of Harry James Potter. May I come in, please?"

Petunia's polite smile turned strained. "What do you want?" she asked, her pretense of politeness gone. "If you're one of those freaks, you-"

She was interrupted when the man leaned in closely. "It's about the allegations of abuse," he stated in a low and cold voice, his own pretense of politeness gone. "Now, may I come in or would you like to cause a scene?"

Petunia let go of the door she had been holding tightly and backed into the house, allowing the man to enter and close the door behind him. "Now, we can do this nice and easy, Mrs Dursley, or it can be very difficult for you and your husband," he continued in his cold and smooth voice as he opened his brief case. "I have here custody forms that you can sign as the child's guardian."

"Who are you," she demanded, suddenly finding her voice though it shook with fear. "I demand that you leave my home!"

He gave her an unimpressed look even as he pulled out some paperwork. "Your _abuse_ is written all over the newspaper in the wizarding world, Petunia," he informed her without answering her question. "This is for the safety of you and your family as much as it is for the safety of Harry Potter. It will only be a matter of time before someone finds this address because of how famous the child is." He smiles cruelly. "What will you do when dozens of enraged witches and wizards descend upon your property? You have no way to defend yourself from magic, muggle."

Petunia put a hand against her chest but glared right back at the wizard. "The boy telling lies again?" she hissed angrily. "He's just an attention seeker. We took him in, raised him, provided him food and clothing."

The man gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Food? The child is half starved! Clothing? He wore rags four times his size at his first appearance back to the public," he spat back at her, and when she flinched at his words, his face smoothed back into neutrality and he offered her the papers. "Sign these, Mrs Dursely, and you need never hear back from me again."

Petunia looked at the sheaf of papers he held then back to his face, then hesitated. "Or from any others of your kind?" she asked warily.

He smirked. "Harry James Potter is considered the savior of our world, Mrs Dursley," he explained calmly. "I will not divulge your address to anyone should you sign, nor will my employer, but I do suggest that you pack up and move since I cannot speak for all witches and wizards. They have been calling for blood in the papers for the past few days."

Petunia paled and snatched up the forms. "Harry!" she shouted up the staircase even as she went to snatch a pen on the table that held the telephone in the hallway. "Pack your things up, boy!" With her back turned to the man, she failed to see the triumphant smile that appeared briefly on his face.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked in confusion when he appeared at the top of the steps to see her signing forms on the table while a tall man waited by the door.

"Don't ask questions," she snapped without looking up. "Just pack everything you own into that trunk you got. You'll be going with this man to your new home."

The stranger caught the conflicting emotions that moved across Harry's face before the pale boy turned to dash to his room. There was fear, elation, worry, and something else he couldn't identify before the boy had fled. He went back to watching the sour horse-faced woman as she signed the last of the papers without even reading what she signed.

Her eyes turned even more fearful when he pulled a small silver knife out of his pocket and offered it to her along with a vial. "I need you to fill the vial with your blood as well for proof," he said in a matter-of-fact tone that allowed for no argument. "That is, if you want to make sure that the Ministry of Magic won't come to harass you over the legalities of it. Wizards have a way of knowing if blood is willingly provided or not."

She gave a short nod as she exchanged the signed papers for the knife and the vial, but she still hesitated. "You swear that this will keep your kind's legal system away?" she asked. When he nodded, she set the vial on the table, and with a shaky hand, unsheathed the knife.

After a couple of timid attempts where she barely broke the skin but couldn't get it deep enough for blood to well up, he gave an impatient sigh. "Just give it a good jab," he finally said. "Otherwise you're just causing yourself pain without getting results. Once enough blood comes out, the knife has enchantments on it for the wound to automatically seal."

Petunia swallowed hard, gave a jerky nod, then closed her eyes and jabbed her palm. Her nervousness caused her to stab more deeply than she needed, and she gave a panicked cry after dropping the knife, but before he thought he might need to intervene, she snatched up the vial to let her blood fill it up. When it was done, the wound sealed itself and she set it down on the table before leaning against the wall.

"Thank you, Mrs Dursley," he said as he moved forward to collect the knife on the floor and the blood filled vial. "Is there anything you would like to say to your nephew, or should I head up there to help him finish packing?"

She shook her head then looked at him. "You got to understand, we didn't want him at all. Dumbledore left him at our door with only a note saying that if we didn't take him in, Lily's curse would ensure our son would pay the price," she said desperately. "The note said that we were the sole surviving members of his family, and that if we _did_ take him in, there would be protections to ensure all of our safety from your kind."

The man looked at her unsympathetically, but there was a curious tilt of his head. "Do you still have the note?" he asked and she pursed her lips hesitantly. "It would provide evidence to help redirect some of that anger off of you and your family..." he prompted suggestively.

She gave a curt nod. "Let me go fetch it, then. Stay here," she ordered before going up the stairs herself.

Harry was the first to appear at the top of the stairs with his trunk. He appeared to have tried to straighten his hair but failed in the attempt. "Sir?" he asked as he looked about for his aunt.

The man pulled a wand out at flicked it at the large trunk while gesturing for Harry to come down. "Your aunt went to retrieve something for me," he soothed. "Is this everything you own?"

The boy nodded, then hesitated before making his way down to stand awkwardly next to the wizard. The trunk was floated over to the door before being set down. A minute later of silence while the boy tried not to fidget, Petunia reappeared once more and headed back down the stairs to offer him an aged envelope.

"Here, this is it," she said without once looking at her nephew. "You can leave my house now."

The man accepted it with a polite inclination of his head and a slightly mocking bow. "We will do so, then, ma'am. Pleasure doing business with you," he added before gesturing to the front door. "Let us go to your new home, Harry Potter."

Harry nodded and gave his aunt one last sad look before he turned to gather up his trunk, then he left the house he had grown up in without looking back to see that Petunia had watched them both leave through her open door before the man placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to disapparate them both with a loud _crack_.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and the follows! Sorry on the late chapter, I was going back and editing chapter 1 and 2. Chapter one had a lot of heavy editing done on it since I decided to keep the beginning part of the story focused on the other character's perceptions since there are so many of them! Soon the playing field will narrow down, though, and I'll be doing Harry's side of the story besides the tidbits here and there with his dreams and stuff.

For those curious about the reference to Albania here, Scotland was indeed called Albania from the 9th to the 11th centuries! That would have been the time period the Founders were about as well. And the time period that Helena was murdered by the Baron when it was said she ran to Albania to hide the diadem. There is also only one type of snake Scotland has, the deadly adder, with occasional sighting of the green grass snakes. I chose for Voldemort to end up hiding in the Albania Helena died in since that was where he would have had to have gone to find the diadem and thus knew it well. The country of current day Albania never made sense to me since Rowlings only used France and Germany, and even then it was because of the Triwizard tournament. It's also an interesting theory I haven't come across in other fanfics, and I do enjoy fun bits of trivia like this =)

Special thanks to my sister and my best friend for taking time to point out some of my grammar mistakes! I'd also like to thank CaseLC and Dr Stranger for their wonderful critique! I will strive to continue to improve my writing and story telling.

Sorry for the cliff hanger, I didn't do it intentionally, but I didn't want to cram more into this chapter! Next chapter: Vanished.


	4. Vanished

**Disclaimer** : I am a fan of Harry Potter like you all but I don't own it.

Still haven't got a slice of pumpkin pie yet either.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Vanished**

Albus Dumbledore kept his expression neutral as he tapped the podium with the Chief Warlock's scepter to signal the end of the three hour long Wizengamot meeting, then coolly watched as most of the other Lords and Ladies got up to begin filing out. Others idled about to talk with each other on the black marbled floors in hushed voices though some sounds of laughter from others sharing a joke echoed around the large chamber. The session had been long and arduous, the subject centered around one Harry Potter for the majority of the time.

Augusta Longbottom refused to drop the subject of the boy's whereabouts since she had been in the Leaky Cauldron, even going as far as sharing her memory with the rest of the council.

Dumbledore stopped paying attention to the others to gather up the notes so was caught by surprise by the _'hem hem.'_

"Dumbledore, a moment of your time?" Minister Fudge asked while his Undersecretary, Madam Umbridge, gave Albus a smug smile from behind her employer.

"Cornelius," he greeted cordially with raised eyebrows. "I'm afraid I don't have much time..."

"That's alright, I won't be long," the minister replied back with a wide politician smile. "Just a couple quick questions about The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Of course it was. Albus refrained from sighing, smiling instead, and brought the papers up to straighten them up on the podium. "Oh?" he asked with a politely curious expression, though he figured he knew what it was about.

"I understand your reasoning on why you do not want to divulge his location, but I thought I may have a word with his guardians," Fudge said as he pulled out his green bowler hat out from under his arm to clutch it in his hands. "See if they'd be willing to accept money to have him in my campaign. It would also allow the public to see that the boy is quite healthy."

"I do not think that is possible, Cornelius," the older wizard replied back. "As I said, his relatives are very private people that do not wish to be disturbed. Harry is also much too young to be subjected to politics, don't you think?"

Madam Umbridge let out a girlish squeal of laughter behind and upraised hand. "Now now, Chief Dumbledore," she simpered. "There is no such thing as too young!"

Fudge nodded an agreement with her. "He already has a public image, I could teach him to cultivate that!"

Fawkes from Dumbledore's shoulder glared down at the Minister, sensing its master's irritation. "I believe it best that he learn more about the magical culture before throwing him to the media sharks," he replied back disapprovingly causing Fudge's smile to falter briefly.

"But they love him!" he said back and smiled wider while waving his hat. "He has been missing for a decade. He's the savior of our world and should be-"

"No, Cornelius. When he's old enough to make the decision himself, we should allow him to. But he should have a proper childhood rather than get trotted about like a prized possession, don't you think?"

Umbridge took a step closer to the podium and smiled up at Dumbledore. "He is national property. If we have him on the Daily Prophet it could get rid of some of those nasty false rumors," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice and Fudge nodded an agreement.

Dumbledore shook his head no stubbornly and tucked the papers under his arm. "I'm afraid that his guardians simply will not approve and have requested that their location remain a secret," he said dismissively. "I must be off, however."

Fudge drew himself up and put his hat on. "Dumbledore, you cannot keep the boy protected from the press and this will only ruin your own image with all the secrecy," he said firmly, refusing to drop the issue. "I can make sure that everything goes away, though."

"I must respect the wishes of the boy's family. Tragedy has already struck them once before, and I wouldn't want to be accused of taking advantage of that." Fudge flinched at the subtle threat and Dumbledore took that moment to walk past them. "I'm sure Harry would love to support you as soon as he comes of age, Cornelius. No need to push for it now."

"Of course," the minister agreed reluctantly. "Good luck on the new term then, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore briskly made his way out of the chambers with an urgency that made others that calling out his name believe him to be too busy to stop. Normally he took his time and would converse with them before he left, but he did not want to stop and answer another question about Harry Potter. All of the purebloods in the chamber had been shocked by Augusta's memories because of the boy's reaction, and having seen it himself, Dumbledore knew there was no attention seeking behind it. The council had dictated that he must send a pair of aurors to the location to investigate what was happening there, though he did get them to agree that Vows could be used to keep the location from getting out.

He made his way straight for the DMLE offices on the same floor, walked past the auror desks, and knocked on Amelia Bone's office door.

"Come in," she called out in a short voice.

When Dumbledore opened the door, he could see her leafing through a lot of papers. A cup half filled with tea sat off to the side of her desk, and there were bags under her eyes. "Madam Bones," he greeted as he closed the door behind him.

Her head shot up at the sound of his voice and she frowned at him. "Dumbledore," she greeted and got right down to business. "You have not replied to a single owl I've sent in the past few days. Do you know how many letters I received because of that Prophet article?"

Dumbledore moved to take a seat. "That's why I'm here today," he replied back calmly and began to leaf through the papers he had brought. "I need a pair of your aurors to investigate the rumors to determine if the boy needs to be relocated or not. The Wizengamot was obsessed about it in today's session. Ah, here it is." He pulled out a paper and places it on her desk.

She frowned at the paper as she picked it up, then began to read it. "An Unbreakable Vow?" she asked as she glanced at him with an arched eyebrow and continued to read.

"We don't want anything leaking to the press," he explained. "If the claims are true, we can't have people taking out their anger on random muggles, of course. Not to mention things like curses and howlers sent to the boy's family while investigation is under way. We both also know that not all of the death eaters were rounded up."

She set the paper down and heaved out a sigh. "Still, isn't that extreme?" she asked. "I can't ask just any of my aurors to take an Unbreakable Vow."

"I was going to request that one of them be Kingsley Shacklebolt."

She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at him. "He's one of your Order members," she stated, then snorted at Dumbledore's surprised expression. "I know my people, no use in denying it. He's been coming and going to Hogwarts since the fiasco started."

Dumbledore's lips thinned briefly, then he leaned forward too. "Madam Bones, what I'm going to say needs to stay between us," he said, then waited until she gave him a curt nod. "I believe Voldemort has managed to resurrect himself."

He raised a hand after she gasped and continued before she could interrupt. "Hear me out. One of the things he did during the last war was to seek out immortality. I am not sure what Dark magic he used to achieve it... but there was no body at the scene. You can check the reports for that. Further, the robbery at Gringotts was over the Sorcerer's Stone, and the Dark Mark he used on his death eaters has come back in the last couple days."

Amelia Bones stared at him for a few seconds in shock after he finished with wide eyes, then she pursed her lips. "That would be the same time the fiasco started," she agreed. "I'll be looking over those reports, though, and having the prisoner's arms checked to verify your claim."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. "I wouldn't expect anything less," he agreed. "However, you can see why the boy's location needs to remain a secret? Most likely, if he's come back, then Harry will be the first target."

She gave a nod of agreement and looked off thoughtfully. "I'll be the second auror," she stated, then she turned to meet his eyes. "But if there is any truth to the claims of abuse, Dumbledore, you won't be getting away with it. I'll not be brushing it away, and without the muggles taking the blame, people will be out for your blood."

He shrugged. "It won't be the first time I've had bad publicity," he said dismissively. "Honestly, I suspect the boy is a bit underfed and hasn't had much love, but I doubt he was beaten or worse. They are the boy's family, Amelia."

"Albus, I've seen a few cases of what muggles have done to their children," she said with a frown. "Even you know a few students that have gone missing. Do you remember Stephen Jones?"

Fawkes shifted on Dumbledore's shoulder as he frowned while trying to recall the name. "Hmmm, he was pulled out during Christmas holidays by his family in his third year about five years ago," he replied back after a minute.

Amelia stared at him for a few seconds, then she leaned over to pull open the bottom drawer in her desk, then tossed a file on top. "And this is what happened a year after that,"she said grimly.

Dumbledore hesitated for a split second, then reached out to pick it up. He began to read the reports and his expression turned grim.

"Beaten until he could no longer move then left in the city dump to die," she stated brusquely. "His body was found three days later by the Scotland Yard. One of their people was part of their supernatural squad and recognized the wand that was close by, so he contacted us. We questioned the family."

Dumbledore looked a little green as he met her eyes. "It says here that they stated that they didn't want... their own child?"

"They didn't want a freak," she corrected grimly. "I admit, these occurrences don't happen often. About once every few years, although as I went back through the records it was more common to see about a century back. Some muggles see their own children as demons, freaks, non-humans, and monsters, then they take it upon themselves to rid the world of something unnatural like that."

Dumbledore closed the folder and set it back on the desk while Fawkes crooned softly into his ear. "I... He was a Hufflepuff. A gentle and quiet child."

Amelia nodded without looking away from Dumbledore's anguished eyes. "Because it doesn't happen often, because Hogwarts is outside of ministry control, because he was no longer a registered student, and because they are muggle born, these stories don't get out," she explained. "Don't get me wrong, most parents do care for their children. Some only neglect them and it doesn't go to this extreme. But this case is exactly why I will be going to the boy's house to do a thorough investigation. If I didn't, and something like this were to happen..."

Dumbledore pales and nodded. "Then it would get completely out of hand," he finished while envisioning things like babies and children being taken away from their families while the parents were obliviated, muggle hunting, and how his own reputation would never come back from something like that. His hand reached up to stroke Fawkes' feathers. "Be as thorough as you must, then. However, the boy's location must not get out."

She nodded an agreement. "And if the Dursleys are guilty?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He paused mid-stroke down his familiar's back. "I... will leave that up to your call then, Madam Bones," he said with a sigh of defeat. "Only if there is a way to get it known to the public without persecution happening, however."

She snorted. "Last thing I need is an overworked department having to obliviate random muggles who have been targeted by outraged witches and wizards," she agreed. "I'll use Shacklebolt as my future in regards to my more private investigation about you-know-who as well. The Dursely's address, please?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Number four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey," he informed her as he stood up. "I shall leave this in your capable hands."

She nodded back at him as she started writing a note out. "Good luck with the new school term," she said as he left her office.

* * *

Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt found themselves walking down Privet Drive with Notice-Me-Not charms on them an hour later. The lawns were all trimmed, the grass was green, the houses were all identical and they all had white picket fences.

"This is a little unnerving," the tall black man admitted to his superior as they stepped to the side to allow a group of playing children to run past them. "There's no color. Everything is the same! How do we know which is the right house when there are no differences?"

Amelia snorted in amusement at how nervous he was. "House numbers," she explained as she turned to continue down the road. "See? This one is eight. The other side of the street is odd numbers. The muggles don't name their properties like we do because there are so many buildings. They number them and go by street names instead."

He nodded thoughtfully and began to carefully observe his surroundings until she stopped to gesture to a house. "This is the one," she said and walked up the driveway.

Shacklebolt followed behind her and waited as she knocked. A minute later, the door was pulled open by a horse faced woman. "Yes, may I-" she started politely, then snarled, "You people!"

Amelia narrowed her eyes at the reception. "Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." she replied back coolly. "We have some questions for you, Mrs. Dursley."

Petunia went to slam the door shut but Kingsley flicked his wand to immobilize it. "Get off my property, you freaks!" she hissed after a couple attempts. "I don't have anything to do with you likes anymore!"

Amelia stared down at Petunia. "What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"The boy is no longer here, we gave him away a few hours ago," she replied back smugly.

Kingsley and Amelia exchanged shocked expressions. "What do you mean, gave him away?" he asked first as he took a step closer to the door. "What have you done with Harry Potter?!"

Petunia took a couple steps back when the tall man moved forward which allowed the two aurors to force their way inside. "Just that," she replied back spitefully. "Get out of my house before I call the police!"

Amelia laughed outright at the threat as Kingsley shut the door behind him. "We are the magical equivalent of the police," she explained to the muggle woman. "You could call them, but they know about us. We just have some questions we need answered. Where is Harry Potter now?"

Petunia pursed her lips for a moment as she debated about whether or not to answer, then she shrugged. "I don't know," she informed them in a matter-of-fact way. "A man came by a few hours back with custody papers which I signed. He said it would be filed by your ministry people and we would be left alone. So shouldn't you know?"

They both blinked in surprise. "Did you get a name?" Amelia pressed.

"No," Petunia replied back promptly. "He did suggest we find a new home, though. Said the wizarding world believed the boy's lies about abuse and that we'd be persecuted."

Amelia smiled in return though it held no humor. "He was right about that. May we look around your house for evidence of these allegations, Mrs. Dursley?" she asked politely.

Petunia drew herself up and put her hands on her hips. "No you may not," she said indignantly. "The boy already packed all of his things and left so there is nothing left here."

Amelia looked to Kingsley and nodded. He raised his wand and pointed it at Petunia as Amelia bared her teeth with a larger smile. "You are obstructing an investigation, Mrs. Dursley. Please step aside and allow us to search your home before we are forced to immobilize you."

Petunia kept her stance for another few seconds, but when Kingsley opened his mouth to stun her, she threw her hands up in surrender. "We're fine upstanding citizens," she protested as she moved to the side. "The boy was telling lies. We get phone calls from his school often since he causes so much trouble."

Amelia beckoned for her subordinate to start searching the house before she pulled a notepad out of her pocket to start questioning Petunia. "What kind of trouble?" she asked in a professional voice.

Petunia folded her arms across her chest and leaned up against the hallway wall as Kingsley moved past her to go upstairs first. "Well, he was found up on the roof one day," she explained. "Claimed the wind blew him up there! Another time, he dyed his teacher's hair blue."

Amelia nodded and she wrote. "Sounds like accidental magic," she agreed. "Was there ever any punishment?"

Petunia nodded and glanced up the stairs worriedly. "He's not going to do unnatural stuff up there, is he?" she asked distastefully.

Amelia looked up from her notes and pinned the other woman with her eyes. "He will do what's necessary to find out the truth of these allegations," she replied back coolly. "What was considered punishments when he did magic, Mrs. Dursley?"

Petunia narrowed her eyes. "We never beat the boy if that's the lies he's told," she stated primly. "We would send him to his room without dinner or give him extra chores. Figured if he kept himself busy, then he wouldn't have time to cause trouble. Didn't work very well, though."

Amelia paused after she finished writing and looked at the other woman. It didn't sound like she was lying, but it didn't sound like the full truth, either. "You can give me the full answers willingly, Mrs. Dursley, or we can force it out of you at a trial using potions," she started calmly, then her eyes and voice hardened. "That's not the whole truth. What. Were. The. Punishments?"

Petunia paled and swallowed hard. "That was it," she denied while shaking her head, but her eyes flickered over to the cupboard door down the hall.

Amelia caught that. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at Petunia. "Open the door," she ordered, and when Petunia shook her head no, she shot her with a stinging hex.

Petunia yelped in pain then quickly backed to the cupboard. "We didn't have room," she explained while standing in front of the door with a heavy lock on it.

Amelia gritted her teeth. "Open it," she ordered again. "And don't make me tell you twice."

Petunia gave the wand pointed at her a fearful look then unlocked and opened the cupboard door. Amelia waved her wand so that Petunia would back away from it, then she moved over to look inside. "You kept a child in here?" she gasped as she looked into the tiny space with nothing but a cot, a thin blanket, some cleaning supplies, and spiderwebs.

Petunia gathered her nerves together and put her hands on her hips defiantly once again. "What would you have me do?" she hissed. "We didn't want the boy. His parents got themselves blown up and he was just left on our porch. Nobody asked us if we wanted to take him in, and we weren't going to deny our own child just to support something unnatural like you people."

Amelia stared as the hateful vitriol spewed out of Petunia's mouth, then she drew herself up. "Petunia Dursley, we will be taking you and your husband in for full questioning," she stated. "You can come willingly or you can come in ropes. Where is your husband?"

Kingsley's heave steps were heard coming down the stairs. "Amelia?" he called out before seeing her below him through the banister. "I saw no signs of another child's room. There was the master bedroom, another boy's room, a room filled with broken toys that looked fairly unused, and an unused guest room."

Amelia gestured to the cupboard door with her free hand. "That's because he lived in here," she replied back coldly without looking away from Petunia. "Where is your husband at, muggle."

"You can't take me! I'm not magical and don't answer to your ministry," she sneered back defiantly. "The man that took the boy earlier said I would be immune to your laws."

Amelia smiled coldly. "Well, as the paperwork for that hasn't gone through, but the paperwork for this investigation has, I am currently authorized to take you and your family into custody." A stream of ropes came out of the end of her wand to bind Petunia and she looked up at Kingsley. "Auror Shacklebolt, you are to remain on premise to collect the rest of the residents here, including the other child. When you obtain her husband, please place him in a separate cell. The boy will need to go to the children's department."

Petunia burst into tears as she struggled against her bindings. "Don't hurt my son!" she shouted. "He's a good boy and completely innocent!"

Amelia flicked her wand and levitated the woman up. "So was Harry Potter," she said coldly as she placed her hand on Petunia's shoulder then disapparated.

When Vernon came home an hour later, he was greeted with a stunning spell at the door by a tall black man in robes. Dudley, coming home thirty minutes later after hanging out with his gang at the park all day, was treated more gently with a sleeping spell.

By nightfall, the Dursleys were being questioned by the head of the DMLE under veritaserum. The story that unfolded that night wasn't anywhere as bad as the story of Stephen Jones, but it was still a terrible tale of neglect, starvation, and encouraged bullying.

Now Amelia had to search for the elusive adoption papers to find out where Harry Potter had disappeared to.

* * *

Teleporting was one of the worst sensations Harry had ever experienced in his life. Definitely not the worst, that award went to being stuck up in a tree all night when Aunt Marge's dog wouldn't let him come down, but it was still up there. He felt like he had been sucked through a tiny straw, and his stomach felt like it had come out of it turned upside down. As soon as he felt the checkered floor under his feet, he collapsed to his knees and threw up all over it.

"First time apparating?" asked the man who brought him to his new home with amusement. "Don't worry, the feeling will pass in a moment."

After a few heaves, his stomach did settle, and the mess on the floor abruptly vanished when he settled back on his heels to catch his break. Harry looked up in surprise to see the man take off his hat to reveal a bald head. "Uhm... sorry," he said meekly, hoping he wasn't in trouble.

The man looked down at him and quirked an eyebrow up. "It's fairly normal for most people to get sick after the first time they side-along apparate," he explained with a crooked smile. "Nasty piece of work, that aunt of yours. Wanted to hex her a few times."

Harry gave a small smile back and slowly got to his feet again, relieved that the man didn't seem upset that he threw up all over his floor. "She's... not so bad," he said, feeling the need to defend her actions. "She just doesn't like wizards I think. Or anything unnatural."

The man pointed the wand at his suit and wiggled it a few times to transfigure them back into robes as he shook his head. "You shouldn't defend the actions of people whose own actions condemn them, Harry," he chided gently. "They don't deserve your sympathy, not after everything they did. I'm Quirinus Quirrell. Didn't want to introduce myself to a muggle woman like her." He offered Harry his hand as he smiled down at him.

Harry gawked at the Quirrell's heavy robes before he took up the hand. "Harry Potter, but you already know," he said with a blush. "I uhm... thank you? For bringing me here?"

Quirrell chuckled with amusement then flicked his wand to levitate the trunk and Hedwig's cage up into the air. "Ah, I'm just doing as my employer requested," he said. "Though it's definitely a pleasure to have brought the savior of the wizarding world out of such a terrible house. My employer is the one who brought you, though. Follow me and I will show you your room for the night."

Harry nodded in confusion, then started to follow Quirrell, his trunk, and his owl. They went up a grand flight of stairs then walked along, Harry too scared to ask more questions, but he observed his surroundings. It appeared to be a large mansion, though most of the rooms they passed has sheets covering furniture and cobwebs hanging on the chandeliers and in the corners. Dust was so thick in some rooms that the carpet appeared brown rather than whatever colors it truly was. The halls they traveled were lit with old style gas lamps.

"My employer recently inherited this house," Quirrell explained in a smooth and cultured voice. "Just a couple days ago, as a matter of fact. He was thinking of selling it but decided against that when we saw what happened at the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry stopped in his tracks and wrapped his arms around himself, mortified and feeling sick from anxiety. "I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean to cause a fuss then," he whispered as he stared down at his feet. He saw Quirrell's black and shiny shoes stop and turn when the he turned to look at Harry.

"Harry, nobody is blaming you," Quirrell said gently. "You're not in trouble. We saw what happened. I'm a half blood, like you, but I was exposed to both worlds unlike you. I know abuse when I see it, Harry, and I informed my employer why you reacted the way you did."

Harry took a few deep breaths to calm down enough to look up at the gentle sounding wizard, half expecting an upraised hand to grab him up. Not seeing that, his nausea lessened slightly and he nodded to show that he was listening.

"You see, muggles and wizards treat their children very differently," he explained. "Those that grew up only knowing about the wizard world, they don't hear stories about abuse. Our children are the heirs to our houses and our familial magics. Some of the more traditional households might seem cold to their children on the outside, since showing affection publicly can be frowned on, but they are all treated well."

Harry gave Quirrell a skeptical look and he returned it with a chuckle. "It's true," he insisted. "See, we all have magic. It was explained to me that our very magic keeps us from hurting our own children. The only exception to that is if someone is insane." He shrugged. "That twists our magical cores into something unusual, and most people get destructive when that happens."

Harry shuffled in place causing a bit of dust to puff out of the carpet. It did reveal a burgundy color, not the brown that he thought it was. "What is a magical core?" he asked, holding his breath and hoping the question wouldn't anger the man.

Quirrell rubbed the top of his bald head with his free hand and smiled. "Well, that's technically something you'd learn in school," he started, then grinned. "It's complicated. But the most basic explanation is that it's the pool of magic inside of us wizards that allows us to cast spells. I'll answer more questions when we get to your room, okay?"

Harry smiled back and nodded an agreement then the two of them resumed their journey. "You'll be occupying the east wing second floor," he said. "The west wing third floor belongs to the master, and you are never to venture there uninvited. The first floor of the west wing is the dining room, the south wing is the kitchen, the east wing contains the ball room. This used to be an old muggle mansion, a squib in the master's family had inherited it, and the master in turn got it. A squib is someone born into a magical family that doesn't have magic. And here we are," he said as he gestured to several doors. "Pick out the room you'd like in this corridor. Each one should have a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bathing room. They'll all be dusty, but I'll clean that right up."

Harry hesitated, but at Quirrell's encouraging nod, he crept forward past the man to open the first door. The room wasn't lit, but the sun streamed through the dingy windows on the opposite wall to reveal a room with doors on the left and right walls, a large empty bookshelf, a solid looking desk, couches and a table in the center of the room that had sheets covering them, and a few other things under sheets he couldn't figure out. "This one is fine, Mr. Quirrell," Harry said.

Quirrell set down the trunk and owl with another flick of his wand then nudged the boy into the room. _"Lumos._ Come now, you have the pick out of five rooms. Properly look about, silly boy!" he said as he walked past Harry to fling open the bedroom door to shine the light inside. "We're going to need to get a couple house elves to get this place up to par."

"House elves?" Harry asked as he approached to look into the room. Inside was a king sized four poster bed, a smaller writing desk, another book shelf as well as more shelves for knickknacks, and two doors.

Quirrell walked into the room and tried to pull open the first door. "House elves are _-alohamora-_ are little creatures that love to cook, clean, garden, and take care of our needs," he explained and continued tugging. "It's stuck, not locked." He tucked his wand into this robe, took the handle in both hands, then yanked. The door popped open causing a cloud of dust to puff out and the bald man to stumble back a few steps while Harry let out a sneeze. "Ah, let's see... a closet!" The wand revealed a large walk-in closet. Another wave of the wand with a muttered incantation and the cloud of dust clumped up into a decent sized dust bunny that fell to the floor. "Anyway, most purebloods have them. My master just came back to England from overseas and you should be meeting him sometime in the next few days."

Harry nodded from the doorway and watched as Quirrell made his way to the other door. "This should be the bathroom," he said, and the door opened up this time though it was creaky. "House elves can also do repairs to things like this. Come look. Most likely the master may want to do renovations. The bathing room, as well as everything else here, will end up what you would find in a wizard home rather than an outdated muggle house."

Harry made his way over to stand next to the chatty wizard that he was starting to get comfortable with. When he looked inside, he could see a large brass tub, tarnished with age, an old porcelain toilet that looked like it needed a new seat, and a sink. The wooden poles of the towel racks looked like they would need replacing, too, but... "This looks wonderful," Harry said with a large smile. "I really would be happy with this room, sir. It's more space than I think I'd ever need and I'm willing to help clean and cook and stuff with the house elves to earn my upkeep..." He trailed off when he caught Quirrell's pursed lips and his smile faded away as his voice did.

Quirrell raised both his eyebrows at the sudden expression of a kicked puppy that Harry had. "No, no, you're not in trouble," he reassured quickly. "It's that... well... we don't expect you to do that work. My master didn't go through the trouble of obtaining the paperwork to adopt you just to turn you into a mere servant, I'm sure." His lips twisted into a slightly cynical smile, but it was gone so fast that Harry thought it might just be the lighting. "No, he has other plans for you, but don't ask me what they are since he hasn't told me of them yet."

Harry nodded mutely while struggling with a sudden fear of the unknown since nothing good ever happened to him. "But... why?" he finally asked while looking away, wrapping his arms around himself once again.

Quirrell stood there struggling with himself quietly for several seconds. Before serving his master, he was a professor. He cared for his students, he enjoyed seeing how their eyes lit up when they learned something new. He wouldn't consider himself someone that loved kids, but seeing a child looking so vulnerable in front of him while knowing it was the Dark Lord himself that wanted him brought here... And he didn't know why. "That... is something I don't know, Harry," he finally replied sincerely.

Harry's hands tightened around his arms as he held himself. He was saved from the Dursley's house... but he had never felt more alone than at this moment. "Did your Master know my parents?" he asked quietly without looking up.

"You could say that," Quirrell answered back, then continued before Harry could ask him more uncomfortable questions. "I cannot give you the answers you seek, Harry. Those are more personal questions you should ask my Master. Or actually, it would be better if you let him tell you... he's not the kind of person you can just ask anything about."

Harry swallowed hard and nodded but stayed quiet so that he didn't risk tears. _Don't ask questions_. That was one of the main rules to survive around the Dursleys. The feeling of loneliness widened further.

"I can answer any questions about magic, wizards, and our world you may have though, Harry," Quirrell offered gently. "You aren't the first child that came to the wizarding world that didn't know anything about it. Muggles sometimes have a magical child though they themselves aren't magical, a phenomena that we've yet to answer the why of also."

Harry looked up and gave a nod with a small smile to show his gratitude. "How does magic work?" he asked.

Quirrell laughed and reached out to pat the top of Harry's messy hair. "That's the hardest question of all. You might as well ask how electricity or gravity works. Magic, too, is a force of energy. Our wands help channel our magical cores and the incantations are like commands. I'll give you some examples."

And so Quirinus Quirrell started teaching Harry basic magical theory while using cleaning spells in the same way he would try to instruct how electricity works to a wizard while turning appliances off and on. Harry grasped the basics of it relatively quickly and his fear and loneliness melted a little bit while watching the magic being shown to make room for the awe he felt.

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A/N: Thanks again to everyone that's following and reviewing! Getting an email letting me know I gave a new fave/follower helps me not to forget that I have a project going on here. I am hoping the glasses I get in a couple days help alleviate the photophobia I have so that I can write out more chapters and maybe even start doing digital art again =)

Have chapter 5 about halfway written up =)


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